


Batman and Spider-Man: Year One

by TheFool0



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Comics-Inspired, ConnectedUniverse, Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 99,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22210450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFool0/pseuds/TheFool0
Summary: Batman must learn to work together with an energetic vigilante who calls himself Spider-man as high-tech Vibranium weapons circle around the streets of Gotham.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

Rain poured down on the grey streets of Gotham, bouncing off the sleek black metal of the Batmobile. The Batmobile pulled up in front of a worn-down warehouse, the gentle hum of the Batmobile coming to a halt as the vehicle was switched off. Batman leaped out of the Batmobile, sauntering into the warehouse, rain pouring down on his mask.

Inside the warehouse the lights of the GCPD vehicles flashed in a dance of red and blue. The police officers stared at Batman with contempt in his eyes, after all he had exposed half of them for taking bribes. The warehouse was run down with paint peeling off and holes in the windows. Inside the police vehicle, Batman noticed a man in the backseat, moaning and mumbling to himself. Further ahead there was a police cordon and standing by it, smoking was Batman’s confidant in the police force, Commissioner Gordon.

“What happened here?” Batman asked.

“Our friend there is wanted for murder and robbery,” Gordon explained. “Tried robbing some old folks’ home, a Ben and May Parker. The husband put up a fight but was shot. Left the scene after that. Cops chased him all the way to this warehouse. Bastard threatened to kill himself. There were some negotiations, obviously. Cops were hesitant to enter the warehouse lest the bastard kill himself then all of a sudden, he flew out of the window, dangling from a web. Police took a while to cut him down, he was mumbling something about a Spider-boy.”

“Did the couple have child?” Batman asked. “Anybody close?”

Gordon shook his head. “Nope, no kids. They just moved into Gotham with no friends and relatives. They do have a nephew though. Peter Parker. Took him in when his parents died. Raised him from when he was a boy. It’s a shame that he lost his uncle too. Wonder how he’s taking it.”

“You think he could have done this?” Batman asked.

Gordon shook his head. “No way. He looks way to meek for this. Kid doesn’t have any muscle on him.”

“What about his wife?”

“Now you’re just grasping at straws,” Gordon said. “May Parker is a sweet old lady, wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Batman stroked his chin. Then who would have a motive and the ability to do something like this? Dick and Barbara were busy hunting down a Mafia drug trail so it couldn’t have been them. Could it be another vigilante? Another person carrying out his own justice much like Batman himself?

“Is it possible to get a sample of that webbing?” Batman asked.

The Commissioner nodded. Batman walked over to the factory wall, searching for samples by running his finger through it.

“You better be careful,” said the Commissioner. “It disappears after an hour. Boys found some samples in the factory, literally vaporized right in front of their eyes.”

Batman placed a sample in a glass container and placed it in his utility belt.

Gordon chuckled. “But imagine moving to Gotham and having your husband killed. Hell of a first impression, right Bat…”

By the time Gordon turned the Batmobile was zooming off in the distance.

…

Rain. It was raining again this morning just like the night…

No, Peter did not want to think about it. Thinking about his uncle’s death caused a heavy knot in his stomach.

Aunt May told him he could not go to school. he didn’t have to go, to take some time to mourn, to accept his uncle’s death but Peter said no. He would go to school because Uncle Ben would’ve wanted him to.

People offered him their condolences. They pat him on the back, they apologised but Peter didn’t need their pity. No matter how much everybody said they understood, they would never understand Peter.

After all, how could they understand that it was Peter that killed his uncle and not the burglar?

Peter had his head against the desk, the cool wood surface his only company. The teachers had ignored him sleeping in class, they didn’t ask their prized student questions. But no matter how hard Peter tried, he still couldn’t shake of the knot in his stomach or the spear of guilt in his heart.

After school, Peter dragged his bag across the desk. He let out a sigh. The rain had stopped, thankfully. That meant he could swing around with ease, get his mind off of his uncle.

Before he left the class, somebody was calling his name. He turned to see Richard “Dick” Grayson.

Richard Grayson was everything Peter was not. A handsome, muscular and confident young boy with swept back black hair and cool blue eyes. He had a confident grin on him that made the girls swoon and had a lot of friends.

He was also the adopted son of Bruce Wayne which would explain the friends.

When he was approaching Peter, he didn’t have the usual smirk on his face. Rather he was serious and there was a look of pity in his eyes. That look of pity Peter hated.

“Hey Peter,” Richard said. “Wait up.”

Peter sighed and stood by the door.

“I heard about your uncle,” Richard said.

Yeah, Peter thought. And you’re very sorry.

Peter wanted to dismiss him, to say that he didn’t want to talk about it and head up to the roof and zip away from this hellish school but then Richard said something Peter didn’t expect.

“I know how it’s like,” Richard said. He sighed. “I uh, I lost my parents when I was 10. They owed debts to the Mafia and…” He shook his head. “Long story. But I know what it’s like. If it wasn’t for Bruce I wouldn’t be where I am now.”

Richard placed a hand on his shoulder. “Point is, Parker if you need anyone to talk to, well you can talk to me.”

Even though Peter didn’t really feel like Richard did understand, he appreciated the sentiment regardless. He thanked Richard regardless. They were talking on their way to the school entrance where the Wayne family Butler was waiting for Richard. They had a lot in common than Peter thought so the conversation never got stale.

At the school gates was a Rolls Royce with a petite yet elegant man standing by it, waiting for Richard.

“Oh, I almost forgot to mention,” Richard said, before entering the car. “Bruce wants to see you.”

It took a while for Peter to register what Richard had just said but when it did a wave of giddiness spread across his face. “No freaking way.”

Richard smirked. “Yes freaking way. He saw your essay about…”

“The scientific advancements made by Wayne Enterprises?”

“That,” Richard said. “And said he wanted to meet you tomorrow.”

Peter had to control every single ounce of his being to prevent himself from jumping up and down with excitement. Bruce Wayne, _the_ Bruce Wayne wanted to see him. His childhood hero wanted to meet him. It was like a dream come true.

“If you’re going to keep fanboying,” Richard said. “I’m going to leave.”

“Wait,” Peter said suddenly.

“Hm?” Richard said.

“What should I call you?” Peter said. “Everybody around here calls you Dick…”

“Don’t,” Richard said. “I hate that nickname. Just call me Richard.”

Dick it is then.

…

“Breakfast sir,” Alfred Pennysworth said, putting a silver platter by the desk as Bruce Wayne typed away, the screen of the Batcomputer casting a pale glow on his face.

“Breakfast?” Bruce asked. “Isn’t it 5 P.M?”

“Well you were asleep this whole morning so I opted 5 P.M was a good time as any.”

Bruce Wayne opened the silver tray to reveal eggs and bacon, the smell of which caused Bruce’s stomach to grumble.

“Thanks Alfred,” Bruce said.

“I am sworn to serve sir,” Alfred said, taking his place behind his Master.

The three screens of the Batcomputer was the only light in the Batcave. The muffled screeches of bats echoed throughout the cold walls and steel walkways of the cave, all the while the A.I voice of he Batcomputer droned through the night.

On one of the screens, Alfred Pennysworth could see articles of a new superstar called the Spider-man in New York juxtaposed to the newspapers of Gotham City talking about a masked vigilante who webs up criminals suspiciously familiar to the webs New York’s Spider-man used to perform tricks.

“As soon as Peter Parker left New York,” Bruce said, taking a bite of his bacon. “Spider-man entered Gotham. It’s safe to believe they’re related somehow.” He turned to Alfred. “What did you find out about the webbing?”

“It dissolved after an hour, sir,” Alfred said. “But me and Ms. Gordon managed to replicate it. It’s strong, durable and the formula is far too complex for a teenager to come up with.”

“Unless said teenager is a genius,” Bruce said. He typed something on the keyboard and pages upon pages of report cards popped up on screen. “This Parker kid was and still is the top of his class. He excels at the sciences but his other subjects don’t fall so far behind either. He even wrote an essay about me and got top marks in his class.”

“Charming,” Alfred said.

“Says here his father is a Richard Parker,” Bruce said.

“Did you just say Richard Parker?” Alfred interjected, politely of course.

Bruce nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“Well sir, Richard Parker was an excellent scientist,” Alfred said. “He even worked with your father on some projects. One of the greatest minds I’ve ever gotten to know. It’s unfortunate he died so soon.”

Bruce stroked the stubble on his chin. “Hmm.”

“Pardon me asking,” Alfred said. “But why are you so interested in this child?”

Bruce turned to him. “I just want to know why, Alfred. Why does he do what he does? Smart kid like him should know better than to seek trouble yet he’s always out there fighting dangerous men.”

“I could say the same thing about you, sir,” Alfred said.

A small smile appeared in the corner of Bruce’s mouth. “I heard some of the Falcone’s people are after him. He’s risking his life doing all of this…”

On the Batcomputer was a picture of Peter Parker from his yearbook with a big grin, his glasses all but falling off his nose.

“And I want to know why.”

…

“Why?” Dick asked over the phone.

“Something came up,” Peter said, pulling up his boots.

 _“A group of criminals robbed Gotham’s Royal Bank,”_ said Vicki Vale on the radio sitting besides Peter Parker’s bed. “ _The criminals have been identified as Nico and Roman Cilleb. Brothers with a very lengthy criminal record.”_

“My aunt is…” Peter grunted, struggling to pull up his red gloves with a phone in one hand. “You know.”

“I understand,” Dick said, his voice a little softer. “You sound like you’re struggling with something.”

 _“They’re carrying high tech weapons,”_ Vicki said. _“A few police officers have been wounded…”_

“Bastards,” Peter mumbled. Pulling up his other boot while leaping across his room like a one-legged kangaroo.

“What?” Richard said.

“Nothing,” Peter said quickly.

 _“Citizens are advised to avoid them at all costs,”_ Vicki said. _“We will be keeping you updated on any developments…”_

“Alright Pete,” Richard said. “Call me if you need anything.”

“No problem,” Peter said, shuffling through his bag for his mask. Realizing it wasn’t there, he checked under the bed his hand brushing across the floor like a broom.

“Uh… Pete?” Dick said.

He grabbed the mask letting out a little grunt of victory. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll catch you later, Dick.”

“Don’t call me…”

“And thanks for everything!” Peter said quickly hanging up.

 _“Police have tracked them to an underground parking lot in Crime Alley,”_ Vicki Vale said. _“Police are keeping their distance as they are unsure of what these criminals are going to do next.”_

Peter put on his mask and Spiderman leapt out of the window.

…

The car stopped at an underground parking lot. Roman and Nico shuffled out of the car, carrying the weapons with them.

“These weapons are good, right brother?” Roman said, carrying a futuristic looking shotgun. “We didn’t even have to use explosives.”

“Put that thing down,” Nico hissed. “Lest your dumbass costs us our lives.”

Roman looked dejected but he still held the shotgun, albeit avoiding the trigger.

The other car rushed in, screeching to a halt in front of Roman and Nico. From it, 6 men appeared. All of them wearing masks.

“We got the rest of the money,” said one of them. “Now where’s our cut.”

“You’ll get your cut once I see the money,” Nico said, the thugs making way for him as he opened the doors of the black van they drove.

Nico opened the black duffel bag and in were stacks of money. Nico started counting them. “What took you fucking so long?”

The head thug shrugged. “We didn’t have freaking laser beams like you.”

The thug yanked the gun from Roman’s hand, inspecting it. “Where’d you get it?”

“The Penguin,” Nico said. “Bought em at one helluva price but it was worth it in the long run.”

“Yep,” the thug said, handing the gun back to Roman who let out a whimper. “Blew that vault door to kingdom come.”

“Also, Michael,” Nico said. “Can you get your boys off me? They staring at me like I’m about to kill em and take your money.”

Nico took his share and placed it inside the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Here’s your share,” Nico said, tossing the duffle back to one of Michael’s thugs. “Enjoy your share.”

Before the thug could catch the bag, he saw a string suddenly latch on to it and bag zoom upwards like a jet

“Mind if I take this,” said Spiderman. “I got rent to pay.”

They all looked up and pointed their guns. Spiderman felt that familiar buzzing in his head. His Spider-sense.

“Uh oh,” Spiderman said as the thugs started firing. Spiderman dropped the bag and leapt downwards, leaping around and knocking out the thugs one by one.

Nico saw this as an opportunity to leave. He beckoned at Roman who ran to the passenger’s seat but before Nico could even open the door his hand was webbed to the door handle.

“You really thought you could get away?” Spiderman said. Nico noticed all of Michael’s thugs were down and out. Some webbed to the walls, others groaning on the floor. Their guns were either webbed to the walls or dangling in the air like a pendulum. Nico tried yanking his hands out of the webs but whatever the hell it was made up off, it was strong as hell.

Roman pointed the Vibranium gun at Spiderman but Nico raised his hand, telling him to put it down.

“What is it you want, huh?” Nico asked. “Money? We have plenty of money. You can take that duffle bag.”

“You seem to think I operate the same way as you,” Spiderman said. “What I want is for you to hand yourselves over to the GCPD.”

Nico laughed. “So, you’re one of those self-righteous types eh? Like that Batman and his pansy friend Chicken.”

“Robin,” Roman corrected.

“Whatever,” Nico said. “Either way, when push comes to shove all of your ideals will crumble when you realise just how bad we can really be.”

“Roman!”

Roman was about to fire the Vibranium weapon but before he could, Spiderman yanked it out of his hands and knocked him against his red car. Nico quickly pulled out his gun but Spiderman shot a web and ripped it out of his hands before he could even pull the trigger. He leapt over the car and kicked Nico across the head, instantly knocking him out.

“You can yap on all you want,” Spiderman said. “Still doesn’t change the fact that tomorrow morning you’ll be sitting in a jail cell.”

Spiderman shuffled through Nico’s pockets, looking for his phone. He left an anonymous tip for the GCPD and was about to leave when suddenly the lights flickered off.

“What now?” Spiderman groaned. But suddenly the buzzing in his head got louder, even louder than before. He was in big trouble. He got in a defensive position, carefully walking around the car park instead something decided to jump out at him.

“Whoever the hell you are?” Peter said. “Show yourself!”

Peter’s heart was beating fast. His head was buzzing wildly.

Suddenly, as if by instinct he leapt to the side. He heard a metallic _thunk_ and walked over to where he heard it. Suddenly, the lights flickered on and Peter saw something stuck against one of the pillars. Something that looked sharp, like a boomerang but shaped like a bat. He walked over and started inspecting it, his spider-sense basically _screaming_ at him not to go closer but he ignored it.

He removed the boomerang from the pillar, inspecting it closely.

Noticing too late the large shadow behind.

Peter tried tripping him over but the Batman was faster. He punched Peter across the face causing him to keel over.

That punch made Peter’s vision all fuzzy. He saw not one but two Batmen gliding towards him. His spider-sense was wild now, like a million flies buzzing around in his skull. Peter could feel his nose bleeding.

The two Batmen merged into one as Batman tried landing another punch but Peter dodged backwards, launching a web at his face and hands. The Batman remained still, unlike the rest of them who desperately tried ripping the webs off their face. That was all the time Peter needed to regain his bearings.

Seeing the Batman still like that caused a cold pit in Peter’s stomach, a cold feeling of fear. The same cold feeling he felt when he saw his Uncle’s pale corpse, the same cold feeling he felt when he saw the man who had killed his Uncle Ben.

Spiderman ran towards the Batman despite what his instincts told him. The Batman suddenly plummeted downwards, ready to toppled Peter over but Peter leapt upwards, attaching himself to the roof.

Batman ripped the webbing off his hands, nobody else had managed to do that except Peter himself before yanking the webs off his face. He noticed Peter sticking to the roof like a… well like a Spider.

“How do you do that?” Batman asked. “Are you a mutant?”

Peter shrugged. “That’s racist. Not everyone with extraordinary powers are mutants you know? Some of us were just bitten by radioactive spiders.”

Peter stood on the walls, squatting downwards to propel himself forward. Batman was on the defensive, preparing himself for Peter’s next attack.

But Peter didn’t attack. He placed his hands-on top of Batman’s shoulders and launched himself forward, swinging away from the car park. Suddenly the Batman fell forward, being dragged across the ground. He noticed a web sticking on his back and Spiderman dragging him forward, laughing. Batman grabbed a Batarang from his belt and sliced himself away from the web and while on the floor tossed the Batarang towards Peter Parker but by the time he did, he was gone.

Batman got up, groaning. So, the kid also had enhanced strength. After all, how else could he have dragged him across the floor.

He got a call from Alfred, Batman put him on the line.

“How did your encounter with Mister Parker go?” Alfred asked.

“Alright,” Batman said. He walked over to the thugs and checked their pulses. They were breathing. Despite all his strength the kid didn’t kill.

“You sure?” Alfred said. “You sound rather fazed, sir.”

“It’s nothing Alfred,” Batman said. He walked over to the Roman and Nico, the pieces of crap that had wounded all those GCPD officers. He picked up the weapon and inspected it. It was Vibranium, specifically the Vibranium weapons used by secret military ops. How these useless thugs got a hold of it, more specifically how the Penguin got a hold of them, nobody knows.

“Whatever you say, sir,” Alfred said. “If you aren’t too busy, Master Grayson and Ms. Gordon found out about a narcotic deal between the Falcone’s and some New York mob boss.”

“Very well,” Batman said. “Just ready the lab for me when I get back.”

In the distance, Batman heard sirens. A flash of red and blue light shone against the grey cement of the parking lot. Bruce realised that he was in Crime Alley, the street given that name after his parents…

He’d best leave this place quickly.

The Batmobile lit up and hummed smoothly as Batman got into it. In the distance he saw rows of police officers headed into the parking lot, the lights of their vehicles shining against their suits.

The Batmobile started up, the smooth voice of the AI welcomed him into the vehicle. Batman revved the engine and zoomed away from where it all started.

“Did you hear me, sir?”

“What was that Alfred?” Batman asked.

“Did you go easy on the boy?”

“No,” Batman said. The Batmobile zoomed through the dark streets of crime alley.

While Peter Parker watched from atop a building, the rain pouring down on his crimson suit.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter and Dick were at the cafeteria. Peter had a pie and salad while Dick settled on chicken nuggets and a burger.

“You have way too much cholesterol on that plate,” Peter noted, taking a bite out of his salad

“Alfred always makes something healthy at home,” Dick said. “So, the cholesterol is balanced out.”

Peter started eating his pie. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to Wayne Manor. Something came up and…”

“Don’t mention it,” Dick said. “Losing someone close to you is hard. Believe me I know.”

Dick took a bite out of his burger. “Take all the time you need, my friend. Besides, Bruce told me to give you this.” Dick shuffled through his pockets and pulled out a ruffled envelope. Peter opened it and, in the envelope, there was a bright blue ticket and written in a neat golden cursive was:

**_The Annual Wayne Charity Gala_ **

**_Wayne Manor. Saturday 9 till Dawn_ **

**_Win a chance for an exclusive drive with Bruce Wayne around Gotham. T and C’s apply_ **

“That’s so awesome!” Peter said, grinning. “Can’t wait to tell May!”

Peter carefully tucked his envelope in his bag and was grinning from ear to ear.

“Still I can’t help but wonder,” Peter said. “Why me? I mean I’m not rich. Why does he want me to come to the gala?”

Dick sighed. “Do you want to see him or not? And please keep it down. I don’t want anyone to know I gave you a ticket. They’ll be at my throats.”

“Sorry,” Peter whispered. “But I mean what would Bruce Wayne want with some dorky kid from Queens? He’s a billionaire. Shouldn’t he be doing billionaire stuff?”

“He said your essay fed his ego,” Dick said. Inwardly, Dick sighed. He wanted to tell Peter the truth so badly. He didn’t want another person that, especially one he considered a friend to be dragged into their mess but he knew that if he did tell Peter they would be scolding from the big man.

“Oh,” Peter said.

“Yeah,” Dick said, smirking.

“Either way I’m glad to be meeting him,” Peter said. “He’s one of my childhood heroes.”

“You told me that before,” Dick said, taking another bite of his burger. “And let me tell you, you wouldn’t be saying that if you knew him as well as I did.”

Boy oh boy, if only you knew him like I did, Dick thought.

They had finished their lunch and left the cafeteria, talking about the classes they had next. They talked about various topics, like their subjects, Wayne Manor until the conversation finally steered to something Peter wanted to avoid talking about.

“Tell me Pete,” Dick said. “How are the girls here?”

Peter was taken aback by this question. “I-I…”

“You’re from New York, right?” Dick asked with a big grin on his face. “Tell me how these Gotham girls compare to the babes over at NYC?”

“I mean they’re fine,” Peter said. “I haven’t talked to any of them…”

“C’mon Pete,” Dick said. “A guy like you should be out there. You should be talking to all the girls you see.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Peter said. “You’re good-looking and athletic. Girls look at me and they scream.”

“No Pete,” Dick said. “The only reason they run is because of how low your confidence is.”

“Hi Peter,” said a sweet voice.

Peter turned to see a girl who almost exactly looked like MJ if it weren’t for her glasses. She had frizzy red hair and blue eyes, wearing a pair of scarlet glasses. Peter knew that she was Barbara Gordon. Commissioner Gordon’s daughter and one of the three students fighting for the top spot in their class, the other two being Dick and Peter himself.

“Hi, Dick,” said Barbara, though a little less sweetly. She was wearing a pink shirt and jeans that showed off a surprisingly lean body for a girl who spent most of her time in the science lab and typing away at computers.

“What did I say about calling me that?” Dick mumbled.

“You two know each other?” Peter asked, confused.

“Yeah we used to date,” Barbara said.

“Oh,” Peter said, his heart sinking.

“But we broke up,” Barbara said. “Now we’re just friends.”

Peter turned to Dick who, for a brief moment, Peter noticed a flash of sadness in his eyes before it was suddenly replaced by the familiar cockiness.

“So, what are you here for?” Dick asked. “Here to come begging me to come back?”

Barbara scoffed. “No, I’m here to talk to Peter.”

“M-me?” Peter stammered.

Barbara nodded. “Yes.” She suddenly had a serious look on her face. “I uh, I heard about your uncle.”

“Oh,” Peter said, a little dejected at the thought of Uncle Ben.

“I know you probably don’t want my pity or anything,” Barbara said. “But if you need anything, well my door’s open.”

Peter smiled. She looked like MJ and she also acted like MJ. When MJ wasn’t out hanging with her friends or flirting with the prettiest boy she could find, she would always joke around with Pete. And whenever Peter looked down in the dumps, she would always try her best to cheer him up. When she got the news that Uncle Ben had died, both her and Harry called him up the first opportunity they got to ask if he was okay.

“Thanks,” Peter said. “It means a lot.”

Barbara smiled brightly. “You’re welcome,” she checked her watch. “Oh shoot, I have biology. I’ll see you around, Peter.” The pleasant look on her face disappeared. “Dick.”

She waved at Dick and Peter, jogging off with a smile on her face.

After Barbara left, Peter turned to see Dick grinning at him.

“Peter Parker has a crush,” Dick teased.

“Shut up,” Peter said, his face a little red.

“What was that about Gotham girls being “fine”?” Dick said, smirking.

“She was just nice to me, that’s all,” Peter said. “She seems cool a-and…”

“And?” Dick said, his grin growing wider and wider.

“Sweet,” Peter said quickly. “She seems sweet.”

Dick scoffed. “She’s like that at first. But take it from me once you get to know her, she’s well… fiery.”

“I don’t believe you,” Peter said.

Dick smirked. “You’ll believe me soon enough, Pete. Soon enough.”

…

“Bruce that’s insane!” Barbara exclaimed. “You’re putting a lot of lives in danger just for some test of yours!”

“It’s the only way to attract Cobblepot’s attention,” Bruce said. “Besides nobody at the gala will be in danger. I’ll lead Cobblepot away before it comes to it.”

“How can you be so sure of that, Bruce?” Barbara said. “You can’t predict criminals! They all get sent to an Asylum for a reason.”

Bruce remained quiet, the Batcomputer casting an ice-cold glow on Bruce.

“And what’s this about testing Peter?” Barbara asked. “He’s just a kid Bruce, he doesn’t deserve to be dragged down in our mess!”

“By that logic, that means you shouldn’t be Batgirl?” Bruce said, getting up from his seat. He cast a large shadow, like a mountain upon Barbara. His cape trailing behind him like a snake.

“That’s different Bruce!” Barbara objected. “He might not be doing this because he wants to!”

“That’s where you’re wrong Barbara,” Bruce said. News articles flashed on the large LED screens of the Batcomputer, articles about Spider-man stopping a drug sale, a mall robbery. Even one about how Spider-man alongside the Batman were all on the Falcone’s hitlist.

“If he didn’t want to, he wouldn’t be throwing himself into these dangerous situations.”

“So, what?” Barbara asked. “You want him to stop.”

“No,” Bruce said, sitting on his seat in front of the Batcomputer.

“I want to see just how much he can take,” Bruce said. And he said so calmly, his face like stone, his voice like ice that Barbara felt cold down to the pits of her stomach.

…

Peter Parker was having a good day. He managed to stop a few burglaries here and there, stop some goons from getting a little too friendly with a girl and had a few run ins with the Falcone family who were easily dispatched off. Not to mention he got an A plus in all his tests beat both Dick and Barbara by a half mark and he was invited to meet Bruce Wayne himself at Wayne Manor the following weekend. Things were looking good, very good and when things are going way too good for him, that’s when life always manages to pull the rug from underneath Peter.

The door was unlocked which caused a cold feeling in Peter’s gut. He remembered his apartment door being unlocked when his Uncle was shot. He remembered the flashing red and blue lights bouncing off the peeled off plaster of the apartment hallway, he remembered Aunt May crying into her hands, a blanket draped over her back and he remembered the kind commissioner giving him warm words of advice that fell through deaf ears cause the only thing Peter was feeling at the time was pure unbridled rage, rage he had never felt before.

Peter was glad to see it wasn’t anything that intense. The creaky door of the apartment squealed open and sitting on one of the sofas was the land-lord.

“I’m sorry about your loss, Mrs. Parker,” the land-lord said, his voice sympathetic. “I really am but please understand that if you don’t pay the rent, I’m afraid we’re going to have to evict you and your nephew.”

Peter was at the doorway so they hadn’t noticed him coming in yet. Uncle Ben used to be the breadwinner of their family, his job as a mechanic didn’t make him a millionaire but it was enough to put food on the table and pay the bills. Now that Uncle Ben was gone, all that was left was Aunt May and Peter and seeing as Aunt May was pretty old it would be pretty difficult for her to find a job.

Peter realised he would have to find a part-time job.

The land-lord let out a sigh. “You guys have not made much of a fuss so I can extend the due date to next month. But please Mrs. Parker, you have to pay.”

“No problem,” Aunt May said. ‘I understand, Mr. Lee.”

Before the land-lord could enter the doorway, Peter quickly left the apartment. The land-lord smiled at him.

“Ah Mr. Parker.”

Peter nodded. “Mr. Lee.”

And the land-lord was off. Peter entered.

“Evening May,” Peter said.

“Evening Peter,” Aunt May said with a warm smile. Aunt May was a sweet woman well into her mid-fifties but still had the energy of a twenty-year-old. You could see her age by the silver white hair she always up tied up in a bun and the few wrinkles that lined her face. From her pleasant smile and sweet voice, it would be easy to assume that May Parker was a lady who wouldn’t hurt a fly but Peter knew all to well never to miss curfew. “You’re here pretty late, Peter Parker.”

“I was… studying,” Peter lied. He put his bag in his room so that Aunt May didn’t check and find his costume and sat on the sofa. “I saw Mr. Lee at the door. Is… uh… anything the matter?”

Aunt May shook her head. “Nothing you should worry about,” she said. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Meatloaf.”

“We’re all out,” Aunt May said.

Peter groaned. “How about a burger?”

Aunt May nodded. “Alright.”

While May was frying the patties, they made small talk.

“How’s your friend?” Aunt May asked. “The Wayne boy?”

“He’s fine,” Peter said. He noticed a few papers buried underneath old photos and newspapers. Photos of a young Aunt May and Uncle Ben, photos of a 10-year-old Peter holding up a Captain America figurine while Ben tried getting him to do the chores. Underneath those photos, those doorways to a simpler time were wads of bills all stamped in an ugly red colour. “Did I tell you I was invited to a gala at Wayne Manor?”

Aunt May gasped. Even though she personally didn’t like Bruce Wayne, citing him as a bad example for children, especially teenagers she still was excited for Peter since even as a kid he would never stop going on about Mr. Wayne.

“My nephew Peter Parker is going to a gala!” Aunt May said, the excitement in her voice was very evident. “We’re going to have to get you a fancy suit and everything!”

Peter smiled. “I’ll settle for Uncle Ben’s suit.”

“That dusty old suit?” May scoffed. “No, we need to get you a tailor made one.”

“But I always thought that suit was cool,” Peter complained. And Peter did think it was cool. A navy-blue suit with a white waistcoat and navy- blue pants. Back in New York, him and Uncle Ben always used to go and try on that suit whenever he hit a growth spurt and every time it would fall over his shoulders. Now that he got his magic muscles from that spider maybe it would fit him. He wondered what Uncle Ben’s reaction would have been if he was alive to see it. “It was always so big for me. Maybe now it’ll fit.”

Aunt May groaned. “Fine, if you insist.”

“Maybe you can tell Bruce Wayne to pay our rent,” May suggested jokingly.

And Peter sighed. “About that…”

“What is it Peter?”

“I was thinking maybe I could get a part-time job?” Peter said. “Bring in some cash?”

“No,” Aunt May said firmly. “You should focus on your studies.”

“But I have time…”

“I said NO Peter,” Aunt May said firmly. Peter was taken aback by the sudden outburst. Aunt May had never shouted at him before, sure he had been scolded before but never shouted at. Aunt May shook her head and sighed.

“I’m sorry Peter,” May said.

“It’s…”

“No, no,” May said. “It isn’t. It’s just… Gotham is unsafe and dangerous and I…”

Aunt May looked like she was on the verge of tears. “I don’t want to lose someone else. I already lost my Ben and if I were to lose you…”

Tears started pouring down May’s face. Peter quickly rushed over to her and hugged her.

“I miss him so much, Peter,” May said through sobs.

“Yeah,” Peter said sadly. “Me too, May.”

In the corner of his eye, a piece of paper stared Peter square in his face as if challenging him. On that paper, written in big red letters was the word Overdue, stamped on that paper like an afterthought, it’s blood red ink almost dripping on the table and Peter’s mind was made.

…

**_Gotham Harbour_ **

The Penguin was really living up to his name. Locked up in a cold fish cellar until the fuzz cleared out, huddled together with a bunch of smelly goons dressed in black and white who all smelled like salmon and shit all sitting atop crates upon crates of precious Vibranium weaponry, Oswald Cobblepot was truly living the life worthy of the last of the Cobblepots.

And then barged in Fisher. Cobblepot’s only connection with the outside world. A stupid, incapable buffoon who struggled to form a coherent sentence.

“T-the boss,” Fisher stuttered. “Where’s t-the b-boss?”

Fisher was holding a tattered blue paper in his hand and for some reason was shirtless, goose-bumps dotting his body like measles. The goons were used to it, the Penguin, not-so-much.

Penguin huddled through his men, scolding them if they stepped on his foot and hitting the others who were snickering across the head with his umbrella.

“What’s so bloody important?” Penguin asked with his clearly forced British accent.

“T-this,” Fisher stammered, holding up the crumpled blue paper. “I-I found it in my trash can. I r-rushed over when I saw what was on it.”

The Penguin was surprised this idiot could even read and snatched the paper away from his hand.

“For the love of god put a shirt on,” Penguin said. “Nobody wants to see your chest hairs.”

The Penguin uncrumpled the paper. It was an invitation to the Wayne Gala and whoever donated the most gets to have a…

The Penguin smirked. His parents may have been smart enough to steel his family’s fortune but boy was their child stupid.

The Penguin raised his cane, firing a bullet in the air attracting the attention of all of his goons.

“Better dress up fancy boys,” Penguin said. A grin forming across his face.

“We have ourselves a party to attend.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sprawled across Peter’s bed were newspaper clippings listing part time job offerings in Gotham. Of course, whenever Aunt May knocked, he had to frantically scatter all the papers in case she found out what he did but otherwise he managed to find a few such as pizza delivery at Dominos and much to his surprise, cashier at McDonalds. How something as colourful as McDonalds made its way to Gotham, Peter didn’t know but he figured it probably got robbed every other Tuesday.  
Aunt May knocked the door and Peter quickly scattered all the papers, each of them flying around his room and landing in all sorts of places.   
“Peter,” Aunt May called, her voice muffled by the door. “The Wayne boy is here. Says he came here to pick you up.”  
“Oh shit,” Peter mumbled under his breath. He had been so caught up with finding a job he had forgotten to put his socks on.   
“Tell him to come in!” Peter called out to Aunt May. “I still have to get ready.”  
Aunt May sighed. Even though they were separated by a door Peter could still imagine the exasperated look on her face and her hands on her hip, a pose that almost always said ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed.’   
“Peter Parker,” Aunt May said. “All you had to do was put on some socks.”  
Peter searched under his bed. “I know, I know,” Peter replied.  
“The shoes are in a box right outside your doorstep,” May said.  
And sure, enough they were. Some fancy branded shoes that Aunt May had bought despite Peter’s objections. Looking at them made Peter feel guilty (again). She had spent her money on those shoes just for this party, even though they had rent to pay. Peter told himself he would never take her for granted again.   
“I know,” Peter said.   
“You better be ready by the time I open the door for your friend,” May said.  
Peter smiled. Good old Aunt May. He went underneath his bed, shuffling around spare web fluid cartridges, his sewing kit and for some reason he found his Captain America action figure he had as a kid before finally feeling the silky goodness of a warm pair of socks.   
“Good evening Mrs. Parker,” Dick said as the door creaked open. “Peter didn’t tell me had such a pretty Aunt.”  
He could imagine Aunt May’s smile. “What a charmer,” Aunt May said. “Peter is still busy with some science thing. You know he is. But I can give you some tea if you want.”  
“Oh no, it’s fine…” their voices trailed off as Peter found a pair of socks. One a nice formal shade of brown, the other…  
White with multi-coloured stars dotting the surface.  
Peter groaned.  
“Pretty quaint place you got here Mrs. Parker,” Dick said.  
Aunt May laughed. “Oh, you don’t have to be so nice Mr. Wayne.”  
“The surname’s Grayson,” Dick said. There was a short silence. “Mr. Grayson. But please call me Richard.”  
“Ok, Richard,” Aunt May said, Peter could here tea pouring into a cup. “This place, to put it lightly is crap.”  
Richard laughed. “I didn’t expect you to say that Mrs. Parker.”  
Aunt May chuckled. “This old lady is still full of surprises.”  
“Well compared to Wayne Manor,” Dick said. “This place is a paradise. I’d take this place over Bruce and Alfred being down my throat any day.”  
“Well maybe you should trade places with us,” May said. “We’d gladly take the manor.”  
Dick laughed. “It would teach Bruce some humility that’s for sure.”  
Peter let out a quite “Aha!” as he found the other brown sock.   
As he put the socks on, he heard a knock on his door. “Peter, hurry up. Your friend is waiting.”  
“Yeah, let me just put my shoes on,” Peter said. He put on his shoes and looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting his collars and dusting out his suit, a bright blue blazer with blue pants, a red tie and white shirt. He wished Ben was still alive to see him in this suit, they had made a bet ages ago about whether or not it would fit. Peter would have loved to see the look on his face when he did.  
“Took you long enough,” Dick said. He was wearing a black suit with a shiny dark blue waistcoat with a white shirt underneath.   
“I couldn’t find my socks,” Peter said. “Sorry for holding you up.”  
Dick laughed. Before leaving he thanked Aunt May.  
“You be careful out there, Peter,” Aunt May said. “And don’t take any drinks from strangers.”  
“I’ll keep him in check Mrs. Parker,” Dick said.  
“You better,” Aunt May said.  
“See you later May,” Peter said.   
“Bye Pete,” Aunt May said. “Take care.”  
The door creaked behind them and Dick grinned at Peter.  
“Ever been in a limo before?”  
“Look at this apartment and think about how stupid your question is,” Peter said.   
Dick laughed. “You won’t be running your mouth like that when you see the surprise, I have in store for you.”  
Peter rolled his eyes. “I doubt anything you do will surprise me.”  
“Oh, you have no idea my friend,” Dick said.  
The limousine was a sleek black vehicle that looked very out of place surrounded by the run-down apartments and cracked pavements of the curb it was parked in. Standing by the door was a skinny yet elegant old man who bowed when he saw Dick and Peter walking toward him.  
“Master Grayson,” he said as Dick entered the car at the front seat. He nodded at Peter. “Mr. Parker.”  
Peter didn’t realise just how hot it was this evening, especially since he was wearing his Spider suit underneath his already stuffy suit.  
“Yo Pete,” Dick said. “You gonna be keeping us waiting any longer?”  
“Sorry,” Peter said. Us? What did he mean by us? Peter assumed it was the valet. He entered the back of the limousine and almost had a heart attack when he saw who was sitting across him.  
“Peter Parker, I assume,” said Bruce Wayne. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Bruce Wayne though I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”  
…  
The boy was quite literally shaking. Bruce could see beads of sweat running down his neck.  
“M-Mr. Wayne,” Peter stammered, as the car started up.  
Bruce smiled to ease his tension. If he was less tense, Peter would be more likely to open up. “Please, call me Bruce.”  
“B-Bruce,” Peter said. “I-I’m a huge fan.”  
Bruce smirked. “I know. I saw your essay.”  
Peter face-palmed and let out a shaky laugh. “I almost forgot. Where are my manners?”  
He reached in for a handshake which Bruce returned heartily.   
“You look very tense,” Bruce said.   
Peter let out another tense laugh. “I’m sorry… it’s just you’re one of my heroes and it’s… such an honour to be meeting you face to face.”  
“Well it’s a long ride to Wayne Manor so please relax,” Bruce said. “Besides let me tell you something my father told me when I was young and something, I’ve learnt was true as I grew up.”  
“That is? Mr. Wayne, sir.”   
“Don’t look forward to meeting your heroes,” Bruce said. “They might not always be what you expect.”  
…  
Peter could not believe Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne was sitting right across him. And there was no doubt it was him. It was the same clean shaven, slicked back black hair, broad shoulders and blue eyes he saw on TV and in the newspapers and magazines. Peter had to stop himself multiple times from screaming in excitement.   
“Richard tells me you’re from New York,” Bruce said. “What brings you to a place such as Gotham?”  
“Well I managed to land myself a scholarship at Gotham High,” Peter said. “My Aunt and Uncle were excited at the opportunity I could be attending such a prestigious school so we decided to move in here.”  
“But Gotham?” Bruce said. “I’m sure you’ve heard all about the crime and that bat vigilante stirring up trouble around here? Surely you could have studied somewhere else?”  
Peter sighed. “My Aunt and Uncle are poor but they’ve always wanted the best for me ever since I was a kid. They wouldn’t just settle for less, especially when it came to me. That’s why we decided to move in here.”  
And the best I could ever offer to them was getting Uncle Ben shot, Peter thought bitterly.   
“I’m sorry for making this all depressing,” Peter said suddenly.   
Bruce waved his hands, smiling a warm smile. “No problem Peter.”  
There was something irking Peter at the back of his mind. A thought Peter immediately dismissed. But there was something in Bruce Wayne’s eyes that showed that he was looking for something more than a casual conversation. It was almost as if he was probing him, analysing him.   
Bruce leaned back, pouring a glass of wine into a glass. “I’m sure you read the newspapers.”  
“Yeah I do,” Peter said. “Why?”  
Bruce leaned forward. “I’m sure you know about this new vigilante… The one they call Spiderman.”   
…  
At the name of Spiderman, Peter shuffled a little in his seat. Bruce noticed creases in the boy’s suit, he was tensing up.   
Bingo.   
“He seems a little young, doesn’t he?” Bruce asked, taking a sip out of his glass. “A little too young to be dealing with the likes of the Falcone family.”  
Peter laughed. It was a forced laugh, a nervous one. “Well he isn’t the brightest lightbulb in the box.”  
“Some might say he’s a little reckless,” Bruce said. “A little in over his head.”  
“Well you could say the same thing about the Batman, couldn’t you?” Peter asked. “Sorry if I’m being a little intense Mr. Wayne but we’re talking about a crazy guy in a suit with access to all sorts of high-tech weapons and the police are doing nothing about him?”  
“I don’t like the Batman either but at least he seems professional,” Bruce said. “This Spiderman is a nuisance and interferes with police business. He’s a daredevil with no respect for procedure.”  
“So, Batman can drive on top of people’s roofs on his Batmobile but Spiderman is a daredevil?” Peter said.  
Bruce chuckled. “Touché. You have me speechless and that isn’t something that happens often.”   
Bruce poured himself another glass of brandy, the brown liquid licking the walls of the rugged edges of the glass.  
“But I wonder,” Bruce said, thoughtfully glancing upwards. “I wonder why this Spider-man does what he does? Kid like him could literally be doing anything else rather than stopping Mafia drug deals and bank robbers. I bet he’d be great on TV.”  
“Well maybe he just wants to do the right thing,” Peter said.  
Bruce took a sip off his brandy. “Could be.”  
He stared at Peter’s blue eyes. “One can’t help but wonder though.”  
…  
The limo went over a gravel road, rumbling through a sandy road with pine trees surrounding it.  
“Looks like we’re almost there,” Bruce noted.   
“Yeah,” Peter said. “Can’t wait.”  
Bruce smiled. “You seem excited.”  
Peter nodded. “Yep, this is my first-time seeing Wayne Manor.” Peter shook his head. “I mean, your house.”  
“Please feel free to call it Wayne Manor,” Bruce said. “My ego needs a little bit of feeding from time to time.”  
Peter chuckled. “Noted.”  
There was a short silence as the engine of the limo hummed. The silence was broken up by Bruce.   
“So, Dick tells me you’re one of the smartest people he’s met,” Bruce said.  
Peter scratched his hair. “That’s a bit of an understatement.”  
“He says you get higher grades than him in your science quizzes.”  
“Well that’s true,” Peter said.  
“Are you good with technology?” Bruce asked.   
Peter shrugged. “Somewhat. I built a computer from scratch once.”  
“Interesting,” Bruce said stroking his chin. He opened up a cabinet at the bottom of his seat and pulled out a red and blue giftbox that was so small it could fit in Peter’s pocket.   
“What’s that?” Peter asked.  
“A bunch of electronics and spare parts from Wayne Tech’s science division, transistors, lights, the works,” Bruce said. “I want you to have it.”  
Peter’s eyes widened. He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Bruce returned the grin with a smile.  
“No way,” Peter said, his eyes shining with delight.  
“Yes way,” Bruce said. “Dick told me he’s seen what you could do with a bunch of bleach and household items. Now I want to see what you could do with some Waynetech. Albeit not as advanced as the ones our top scientists use but…” Bruce shrugged. “I’m sure someone with your talents can do something with it.”   
“Thank you so much Mister…”   
“Please call me Bruce.”  
“Mister Bruce,” Peter said ecstatically, basically yanking the red and blue giftbox from Bruce’s hands and putting it in his coat pocket. “I’ll show you what I can do!”  
“I look forward to it.”   
As the car shook its way through the road Bruce noticed a sliver of red underneath the white shirt Peter wore.   
You’re in for a long night Spiderman, Bruce thought as the Limo pulled up at the gates of Wayne Manor.  
…  
The Manor was decorated with blue. Blue ribbons twirled around the roof with the words “WAYNE ANNUAL GALA” plastered on them in white. Blue ice figures were up against the wall and the lights were off.   
“Alright Pete,” Dick said. “Let me show you around the manor.”  
Bruce shook his head. “I’ll show him around the mansion.”  
“Won’t you be busy?” Peter asked.  
Bruce tapped Peter’s back. “Nonsense! Let me show you around, my treat. Dick here will greet the guests.”  
‘Greeting the guests’ also meant looking out for Penguin’s goons. Bruce started talking about the mansion and its history (history being when Bruce was born until now) while Dick went out in the freezing cold, ‘greeting the guests.’  
The manor was soon filled with a bunch of rich people but no sign of Penguin’s guys. From out of nowhere a police car appeared, completely out of place amidst the Lamborghinis and Ferraris of Gotham’s rich and pretentious. Barbara appeared from the front seat wearing a black dress with yellow highlights by her sides. Her hair was tied up in a red bun and her smile was made even more gorgeous from the red lipstick she put on it.   
“Damn Barbara if it wasn’t for the police car, I wouldn’t know it was you,” Dick said. Commissioner Gordon opened up the window, wearing a stuffy black suit he clearly looked uncomfortable in. His tie was askew and his red hair looked like it was combed at the last minute.  
“Hey kid,” Gordon said. “Stop flirting with my daughter and tell me where to park.”  
Barbara gave Gordon the “Oh my god dad” stare. Dick laughed and showed him where to go.  
“I’m surprised your dad’s not working,” Dick said to Barbara. “I thought he’d be up at GCPD by the Bat signal.”  
Barbara shrugged. “I mean we all need a break and dad wouldn’t say no to a free drink.”  
“I mean if I had to deal with Bruce’s antics for seven straight years, I’d need a drink too,” Dick said.  
Barbara laughed. “Tell me about it but damn…”   
She stared at Dick’s suit. “Blue and black suits you. Pun intended.”  
Dick chuckled. “You think?”  
“Yeah, maybe you should tell Bruce,” Barbara said. “Change the Robin suit from red and yellow to black and blue.”  
“Yeah like he’d let that happen.”  
“You never know.”   
Dick and Barbara entered the mansion and started their stakeout. They decided to split up, Dick taking the stairs and Barbara searching through the guests.  
“I almost forgot to ask,” Barbara said through her phone. “Where’s Peter?”  
“The prodigal son is with Bruce,” Dick said, noticing Bruce and Peter amidst the crowd and Bruce introducing him to two of Gotham’s aristocrats. “Bruce is showing him off. He never showed me off like that when I was a kid.”  
“Aww, you jealous,” Barbara said. Dick noticed Barbara walking amongst the crowd with her phone to her ear. Dick almost forgot how pretty she was until he saw her from afar. He felt his heart ache a little.   
“Dick, are you alive?” Barbara said, snapping him out of his self-pitying. “Hellooo.”  
“Yeah, yeah sorry, just zoned out for a second.”  
Dick thought he saw someone that looked like Penguin amidst the crowd but it was just a fat person. “I have the right to be jealous Barbs. I’m supposed to be his son.”  
“Aww, little Richard Grayson is jelly.”  
Dick smiled. “Shut up.”  
Suddenly Dick saw an all to familiar face. It was Skinner, one of Penguin’s top goons wearing a shirt this time around. He was standing in the corner, shaking nervously with a walkie-talkie in his hand.   
“Yo Barbs,” Dick said. “Skinner is here.”  
“What’s he up to?” Barbara asked.   
“He’s in the corner by the Left wing,” Dick said. “He’s holding a walkie-talkie so Penguin must be here.”  
“Got it,” Barbara said. “I’ll go message Bruce.”  
Amidst the crowd of Gotham’s aristocrats, Bruce’s pager beeped in his pocket. Bruce pulled it out:  
“The bird is in the nest.”  
Bruce eyed Peter who walked up to him.  
“Hey Mr. Wayne,” Peter asked. “Where did D… I mean Richard go?”  
Bruce smiled. “I don’t know.” Though Peter could see his smile was a little tense. “Excuse me Pete, I got to go up stage.”  
Peter’s spider-sense was buzzing wildly again. But he couldn’t see anything dangerous in his immediate site. He wanted to believe it was just his anxiety being amongst so many judgemental rich people but his spider-sense was never wrong.   
Bruce suddenly walked to a stage that was setup in the middle of the hall. A stage with glowing blue curtains. He tapped against the mic.  
“Excuse me,” Bruce said, returning to that charming smile of his. “Excuse me everybody.”  
The entire crowd turned to face Bruce who grinned at them.   
“Now I’m sure I know why most of you are here at the Wayne Family Annual Gala,” Bruce said. “And its most definitely not to donate.”  
The crowd clapped at that statement. Bruce waited for them to quiet down before he continued.   
“Yes, as we all know today, we’ll be carrying out a bid,” Bruce said. “And whoever bids the highest gets to go on a joyride with none other than me. Of course, the bids are going to charity but worry not people, your money is not going to waste. I heard I make good company especially when there’s a bottle of champagne in the mix.”  
The crowd laughed.  
“Without further ado,” Bruce said. “Let the bidding begin!”  
The crowd cheered.  
“One million,” a drunk girl blurted out.   
Bruce smirked. “One million dollars. Going once…”  
“One point five million,” said a classy old man.   
“One point five million,” Bruce said. “I’m disappointed, that first bidder seemed like a treat.”  
The bids started increasing. 2 million, 2.5 million. Peter wondered how people could blow that much money for nothing more than a ride with Bruce Wayne. Peter could use that money to pay an entire lifetime of rent. Peter wanted to believe it was because the money was going to charity but deep down, he knew that wasn’t the case.  
And so, the bids skyrocketed.  
10 million.  
25 million.  
50 million.  
75 million.  
Gunshot.  
That snapped everybody’s attention away.   
“How bout you return the money your family stole from me, eh Brucey Boy?” said a short man with a British accent that Peter felt was forced.  
Bursting in out of nowhere was Oswald Cobblepot and a group of thugs carrying automatic weapons. Penguin held his umbrella up high, smoke trailing from the tip of the umbrella.   
The crowd tried to flee but the Penguin’s thugs fired their weapons up in the air. The crowd let out a scream and huddled together, crying and whimpering.  
Barbara took this as an opportunity to blend in amongst the crowds and crouch away. Her suit was in the Batcave and the Wayne Manor had many passageways that lead to it. Meanwhile her father was looking for her, scanning the crowds to make sure his little girl was safe.  
Peter also took this as an opportunity to hide away, trying to look for a room he could change into his costume.   
“Now will Mr. Wayne kindly hand himself over,” the Penguin said. “Or I will start killing people here one by one.”  
Bruce walked in front of the crowd, hands raised in surrender. Smiling. “No need to blow things out of proportion Oswald.”   
“Oh, Brucey boy you’re too naïve for your own good.” Oswald called one of the goons who hit Bruce across the nose with his gun. The crowd let out a gasp. Bruce collapsed on the ground, nose bleeding. Staring at Cobblepot with pure hatred in his eyes. What he’d give to beat the crap out of him right now. But he couldn’t, not in front of a crowd like this. Cobblepot pulled him by his hair, making him stare straight into his beady black eyes.  
“Boy am I going to have fun with you,” Cobblepot said. “Boys, take him away.”   
Penguin’s thugs dragged him. Bruce gave Cobblepot a look. A look very few people had given him. A look of defiance that the Penguin was very used to. But all it took was one gunshot or a word with one of his men and that look was wiped clean from their face like a bar of soap had washed over them.  
Penguin ordered one of his men to knock him across the face for good measure. The crowd obviously let out another gasp, rich bastards were obviously not used to such violence. One of the men kicked him across the face for good measure but Bruce still had that look, despite his perfect hair being tousled and his face bruised. There was a coldness to them that made Penguin’s gut turn, twist in fear.   
But his men would wipe that look right off his face, no problem. One of his men raised their guns to knock him across the face.  
When a web ripped that gun straight off his hand causing it to dangle on the roof. The crowd looked upwards to see a man dressed in red and blue spandex who jumped down, standing in front of Penguin.  
“Hey Penguin,” said Spider-man. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”  
Spider-man paused, sizing him up. “Oh… oh wait.”  
The Penguin growled. “Get him boys!”  
Spider-man leapt into the air and the battle begun.


	4. Chapter 4

In a fit of rage, the Penguin fired his gun. Spider-Man leaped in the air, web sticking to the umbrella, yanking it upwards. The Penguin stumbled downwards, his umbrella gun clattering on the floor. The crowd let out a gasp as the bullet struck one of the windows reducing it to a shower of glass. That was when Penguin’s goons started firing.  
Spider-Man started dodging the bullets, weaving in and out of the bullets crawling across the wall and leaping from side to side. Glass panes shattered, there were holes in the walls and the glass sculptures were mowed down like grass.  
Spider-Man landed at the centre of all the goons. “Guys can we stop shooting at the Wayne Manor.” Spider-Man attached his web to one of the goons. “If Mr. Wayne sues I doubt any of you would be able to afford it.”  
He grabbed the goon like a featherweight and spun around, the goon hit his fellow thugs like a sledgehammer, knocking them down. By the time Spider-Man was done using him as a wrecking ball, he was dizzy and unconscious.  
It was at that moment, the crowd decided to scatter making Peter’s job even harder. The goons started firing at them but Peter was faster, disarming them and knocking them out, making sure they didn’t kill anybody.  
The Penguin took this as an opportunity, gathering up half a dozen goons who dragged Brucie-boy away, knocking him across the face as he struggled against them causing him to crumple on the floor. Penguin fired wildly into the air in order to stir more panic.  
“On no you don’t,” Spider-Man said. He swooped in from the air in order to try and get Bruce away from the goons but that’s when they started firing wildly, causing Spider-Man to swerve away from them.  
Penguin pulled out a walkie talkie. “Skinner, bring the truck and let’s get the hell outta here.”  
Spider-Man swung towards Penguin but Penguin pointed his gun at him and fired. Spider-Man leaped out of the way as the bullet struck a chandelier causing it to plummet downwards like a comet. One unfortunate bystander was under it but before the chandelier landed Spider-Man swooped in and got him out of the way.  
Standing in front of Spider-Man was an old man with greying red hair and long moustache whose face Peter saw in a lot of newspapers.  
“You alright, Commissioner?” Spider-Man asked.  
“Yes,” Commissioner Gordon mumbled, mumbling something about how people in masks are popping up like flies under his breath. “Have you seen my daughter, Barbara. Red hair, green eyes.”  
“No, I haven’t, Commish,” Spider-Man said, in all the excitement he’d almost forgotten about Barbara and Dick. He wondered if they made it out safely. “But I’ll tell you if I do.”  
Gordon nodded. “Thanks, Spider boy.”  
“It’s Spider-Man,” Spider-Man corrected.  
“You sure as hell don’t act like a man,” Gordon said, pulling out a cigarette.  
Spider-Man swung away. Gordon took out his phone, calling Hennelly.  
“Hennelly, call in SWAT,” Gordon said. “Penguin has been sighted at the Wayne Manor. he has Bruce Wayne in his custody.”  
Gordon took another swig of his cigarette and started looking around the manor for his daughter. This was looking to be one hell of a night.  
…  
Outside the manor, cars zoomed around in a panicked frenzy. People were screaming and shouting into their phones and crowding around cars, begging for rides home. Meanwhile Spider-Man saw Penguin amidst the frenzied crowd from his vantage point on the mansion, firing his gun into the air to clear people out sauntering towards a truck. Spider-Man immediately broke into a run, sprinting towards the truck to make sure it didn’t get away.  
Penguin, making sure the coast was clear, slammed the doors of the truck shut. Spider-Man took this as an opportunity to attach a web towards the backdoors of the truck and swing on top of it.  
There was a loud thud on the roof of the truck. The Penguin looked up and so did Bruce and the thugs inside.  
“Prolly just the wind,” Penguin said.  
Inside the truck there were a few wooden crates in the back. The goons were all huddled together with Bruce handcuffed, his back against the wooden crates. Penguin walked towards him, a sneer plastered across his face.  
“You’re a long way from home Brucie boy,” Penguin said, staring face to face with Bruce. “How does it feel to not have a Butler tending to those bruises on your face.”  
“The same way your family felt when they went bankrupt.”  
The Penguin grit his teeth. He raised his fist, ready to strike him across the face when there was a sudden screech of metal. The Penguin and his goons looked up to two red fists jutting out of the roof, the hands clawed at the rough edges and tore the roof open like it was paper.  
“Did anybody miss me?” Spider-Man said.  
The goons started firing at him causing Spider-Man to jump back.  
They heard a dense thud on the side of the truck. The goons started firing there. They heard movement like someone was crawling through vents and suddenly the back door was torn open.  
“Shooting at someone is not a good way to show appreciation.”  
The thugs pointed their guns at him. Penguin had the tip of his umbrella pointed straight at Spider-Man’s face.  
“Then again I’m pretty sure your parents didn’t teach you manners.”  
The thugs started firing. Spider-Man leaped backwards and attached two webs to side of the trucks. Leaping onto the roof he quickly attached a web to the piece of the truck door skidding across the ground and leaped on it, using it like a skateboard.  
The bullets rained down upon him but Spider-Man weaved out of their way like a gymnast, dodging, jumping and ducking out of the way. One of the thugs tried slicing his webs but Spider-Man quickly launched a web causing his hand to be stuck on the wall.  
Spider-Man leaped and dodged, launching his webs at goons to prevent them from firing. He launched a web at one goon’s face causing him to shoot upwards as he struggled to rip the webs off his face. One of his friends tackled him across the ground, causing his gun to fall over the edge and clatter harmlessly past Spider-Man.  
The Penguin let out a scream of frustration. “This isn’t going anywhere!”  
He shifted past the goons who were still firing madly at Spider-Man who launched webs and that splattered across the wall in counterattack. He walked past Bruce who was staring at him with that same expression that pissed him off and opened the wooden crate. There was a blue glow cast across the surface of the crate. The Penguin grinned. He fumbled as he tried to put on earmuffs as the truck shifted and turned but boy oh boy the damage this would cause.  
“Time to bring out the big guns.”  
The goons stared in awe as the Penguin trotted ahead with a large metallic weapon that had something that looked like a cone at the end. Spider-Man was also taken aback at the sight of the weapon.  
The Penguin grinned. “Cover your ears boys!”  
“Things are about to get loud in here.”  
Spider-Man tried launching webs in retaliation as the weapon started up with an electronic hum. A blue ball grew in the centre of the weapon, expanding and expanding. Spider-Man tried launching a web at the centre but it was reduced to nothingness.  
The blue ball grew and the Penguin fired.  
A huge white wave washed over the road, reducing it into little chunks that scattered across the ground. Everything that was washed by the wave was reduced to nothingness, including the trees which were nothing but wooden shards that clattered across the ground.  
Spider-Man couldn’t stop the buzzing in his head. It hurt his entire skull, like an electric wire was directly in his brain. His senses were wild, his ears ringing whilst the world around him was muffled. His eyesight blurry, the trees around him multiplying whilst he could also see every last detail in the leaves.  
“He’s up on the roof,” the Penguin said. “Fire away.”  
Spider-Man could sense the bullets firing from below. He stumbled across the roof, falling over, a bullet inches away from his head.  
Penguin knocked at the front of the truck. “Gun it, Skinner!”  
“N-No,” Spider-Man mumbled but he couldn’t hear his own voice.  
Spider-Man got up just as the truck started speeding ahead. Spider-Man’s body was shaking, the buzzing in his head still wouldn’t go away. He fell over, trying his hardest to hold on to the truck but the pain, oh god the pain.  
He plummeted on the ground, moaning in pain. In a last-ditch effort, he tried attaching his web to the truck but all it was met with was air. It fell on the ground like a flimsy piece of string and the truck was no more than a speck in the distance.  
“Dammit,” Spider-Man groaned, as he lay on the ground defeated.  
The buzzing was starting to subside, the starry sky was starting to look normal instead of two globes starting to clash into one another.  
“God dammit!” Spider-Man growled, hitting the ground beneath him. Now Bruce Wayne was kidnapped by some stupid British midget and it was all his fault. How would the people of Gotham react knowing that Spider-Man was responsible for quite possibly the murder of one of Gotham’s most influential figures?  
He should have just left this to the cops or hell, even Batman, Peter thought. He shouldn’t have been an idiot and charge after him like a bull with no thought whatsoever. Now whatever the hell happened to Bruce was all on him. Whatever happened to one of Peter’s heroes was on all him. Some stupid 15-year-old kid who thought he was could handle something the cops could. He ripped off the mask and tossed it on the ground, letting out a deep sigh. To hell with being Spider-Man, Peter thought. Someone else should have been bitten by the Spider. He’d even take Flash fucking Thompson. Anybody but him.  
Suddenly he heard a rumbling noise, the sound of an engine. He quickly put on his mask. He might not want to be Spider-Man but he didn’t want Peter Parker to take the fall for not rescuing Bruce.  
There was a flash of light, like a beacon. The bike tumbled on the rocky road. Upon further inspection the bike was a bright red and yellow colour and as it drew closer, Peter noticed a yellow R emblazoned in the front.  
The bike screeched to a stop in front of Peter. Sitting on the bike like a knight atop his steed was Robin. Biking goggles atop his black mask, jet black hair swept by the wind, shifting to one side. Instead of the yellow underwear Peter was used to seeing in the newspapers, he instead wore red chest armour with a yellow R on the left side with green sleeves, black pants and a yellow cape.  
“Hey Spider-dork,” Robin said. “Hop on we're going to find Bruce Wayne.”  
To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

The ropes spilled onto the floor, untangling like a noodle. Bruce pressed a button on his cufflink. Deep within the confines of the Batcave, the Batmobile revved.  
Now all that was left were the half a dozen goons in the back of the truck and the Penguin, peering out of the back of the truck to make sure the job was done.  
Piece of cake, Bruce thought. He’d be done before dinner.  
…  
A radio crackled on Robin’s bike.   
“Robin,” said a voice, the voice of a girl. “Bruce is just up ahead; you’ll have to hurry though. Penguin is nearing city limits and we can’t risk him firing that weapon when they’re civilians around.”  
“Thanks Batgirl,” Robin said. There was something very familiar about his voice that Peter couldn’t quite put his finger on.  
“There’s a Batgirl too?” Spider-Man asked. Robin ignored his remark.  
“So, Spider-Dork,” Robin asked. “You coming or not?”  
Hell yeah, Peter was. Sure, he didn’t like Batman or his green underweared sidekick but if he could rescue his childhood hero and manage to get that high-tech weapon off of the Penguin’s hands, it would be a win in his book. He was just about to give up until Robin came along.  
“Hell yeah,” Spider-Man said. “As long as I get to drive.”  
Robin laughed. “Keep dreaming.”  
“Come on,” Spider-Man said. “At least let me touch the handle-bars.”  
Spider-Man tried grabbing on to the accelerator but Robin slapped his hand.   
“No touching.”  
Spider-Man mumbled something underneath his breath about green underwear.  
Robin revved the gears. the bike shook vibrated causing Spider-Man to almost be shaken off.   
“Hold on tight,” Robin said. “I’m about to gun it.”  
“How bad could it be?” Spider-Man said.  
The bike slid across the road like a rollercoaster and before long, Spider-Man was holding onto Robin’s hips for dear life.  
…  
Bruce could feel the cufflink beeping slowly and steadily. The Penguin turned around grinning.  
“These weapons are one hell of a thing, eh Bruce,” Penguin said, he sauntered towards Bruce, Vibranium weapon in hand. The goons, relieved that Spider-Man had been dealt with slumped onto the floor, one of them keeping an eye out of what remained of the door, just in case any uninvited guests started to pop up.  
“I’m sure you’re not going to tell me where you got them?” Bruce remarked.  
Penguin grinned. He placed the Vibranium weapon carefully in the crate, like it was a bomb about to go off. “Still got a bit of mouth on you Brucie? You won’t be so clever when I’m done with you.”  
The beeping was a bit faster now, though it would be a while before Bruce could make his escape.   
The Penguin shuffled around his coat, grinning. “Vibranium weapons sure are fancy,” Penguin said, sneering. “But… now you can call me old fashioned but I prefer the up close and personal approach.”  
From inside his coat, he pulled out a pair of brass knuckles.  
The Penguin grinned. “They’re not going to recognise that pretty face of yours when I’m done with you.”  
The Penguin walked up close to Bruce, pulling his face up delicately, almost tenderly to meet his beady eyes and sneering face then let go. The Penguin raised his fist and struck him.  
Bruce spit out blood. The beeping was getting louder now.  
The Penguin grinned, sneering at him. “How did that feel Brucie boy? Did that hurt? Do you need a hug from mommy?”  
The Penguin gasped. “Oh wait.”  
He let out a burst of hideous laughter that sounded like the cawing of crows.  
“I am going to enjoy this,” the Penguin said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I’m going to enjoy seeing the mighty Bruce Wayne grovelling on the ground.”  
The beeping was at its loudest now. The goons were suddenly up, their weapons pointing at someone, at something. Bruce grinned.  
“Why the hell are you grinning?” Penguin growled. “Huh?”  
The Penguin raised his fist but before he could strike, he was interrupted by a high-pitched voice.  
“Boss,” the voice screeched. “You might want to see this.”  
The Penguin turned around and the brass knuckles clattered on the floor.  
…  
“Hey Batboy,” Spider-Man said.  
“Stop calling me that,” Robin mumbled.  
“Where’s the big man?” Spider-Man asked. “I thought he’d be shivering all the way up to his pointy ears seeing that one of Gotham’s most influential billionaires is in trouble.”  
“He’s brooding.”  
“Brooding?” Spider-Man said. “At a time like this?”  
“He says it’s important.”  
“He does not have his priorities in order.”  
Robin grinned. “Tell me about it.”  
The voice on the radio spoke up. “You guys are getting closer.”  
“What about you?”  
“I’m on the way,” Batgirl said. “There’s been a hiccup, something got in my way?”  
“A hiccup?”  
“You’ll know it when you see it.”  
The radio fizzled to static.  
“Who’s that?” Spider-Man asked.  
“Batgirl.”  
“She seems like a sweet gal.”  
Robin scoffed. “You clearly don’t know her as well as I do.”  
There was a sudden rush of wind and the sound of mechanical plates getting into position. The shock of which almost caused Spider-Man to fall off the bike.  
“What the hell was that?”  
Zooming in front of them was a 1000-kilogram pitch black tank zooming around the road like a Ferrari. The Batmobile rushed on ahead without a single care in the world.  
Robin grinned. “Our hiccup.”  
…  
Bullets bounced off the Batmobile harmlessly, clanking on the floor like useless pieces of tin.  
The Batmobile hummed and whirred, from the bonnet appeared cannon. Penguin’s thugs tried shooting at it but the Batmobile swerved avoiding the weapons. The cannon fired electric darts that caused the goons to drop like dominoes.   
Bruce got up, stepping over the stunned bodies of Penguin’s goons who were all dazed and confused. The Batmobile at the back of the truck Bruce was about to jump inside when he felt something poke at his chest.  
The Penguin, still dazed had the tip of his umbrella by Bruce’s chest.   
“I’m not letting you go Brucie boy.”  
Bruce quickly turned, the Umbrella firing upwards and bashed Penguin’s face against the side of the truck. After making sure he was knocked out, Bruce jumped into the Batmobile.  
…  
Spider-Man and Robin saw a black speck hopping into the Batmobile.   
“He’s safe,” Robin said.  
“What about Penguin’s guys?” Spider-Man asked. “Looks like they’re up to something.”  
As if answering his question, the truck the Penguin was in skidded ahead and the circle of half a dozen trucks surrounded it. The doors of those trucks burst open and from within the dozen vans, thugs clambered on top of the truck, others were in the back, all of them had automatic weapons. To make matters worse, the back door of the truck in leading the rear slammed open revealing a thug with a…  
“Is that a gatling gun?” Spider-Man asked.  
The goons opened fire. Robin swerved to avoid the rain of bullets hailing on them. Spider-Man’s spider sense was buzzing like a school alarm.   
Robin swerved his bike behind the Batmobile where the bullets didn’t leave so much as a scratch on its sleek black metal surface.  
“Can’t your Bat-Dad do something?” Spider-Man asked, screaming his question out loud as his question drowned in the sea of bullets.  
“Please don’t call him that,” Robin said. “If Batman does do something, he runs the risk of killing some of them.”  
“What about those electric thingies?”  
“They’re in limited supply,” Robin explained.   
One of the bullets grazed Spider-Man’s shoulders.   
“So now what?” Spider-Man asked. “Do we just die?”  
The radio on Robin’s bike buzzed. “Robin.” It was the voice of Batman, cold and formal. “They are two trucks flanking the Penguin’s truck and the Vibranium weapons. I can handle the one on the right that leaves you and Spider-Man with the one on the left?”  
“What about the others?” Robin asked. “Especially the one with the goddamn gatling gun.”  
“Batgirl’s in the woods,” Batman said. “When I give the order, she’ll appear and handle the others.”  
“By herself?” Robin said, the sudden burst of passion taking Spider-Man aback. “Batman that’s insane. She can’t…”  
The radio cut off. Robin sighed.  
“Who’s this Batgirl?” Spider-Man asked. “Your girlfriend.”  
“None of your business web-head,” Robin said.  
Spider-Man raised his hand in surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to be so edgy.”   
The Batmobile suddenly swerved to the side taking a brunt of bullets. And shooting out of it like a bullet was Batman. The goons all had their weapons trained on him now and were about to fire when…  
Spider-Man and Robin started knocking them out. Spider-Man webbing up their guns and Robin knocking them out with his strength, throwing the same boomerang things at them that Spider-Man saw the Batman use. Meanwhile Batman wasn’t falling far behind, he threw a small disabler device when he jumped on the thug’s guns that caused their weapon to emit a burst of electricity when they tried to fire it causing them to drop their weapons. All of Penguin’s men on the other trucks had their weapons trained on him but before they could fire, they were greeted by a sudden burst of smoke.   
On of Penguin’s men tried knocking Robin across the head with a wrench, Spider-Man quickly webbed up his hand and yanked him backwards, his head hit the metal surface of the truck and he was knocked out.  
“Hey Batboy,” Spider-Man said. “Pay more attention to your surroundings.”  
Spider-Man’s head started buzzing. One of the thugs had regained consciousness and had his gun pointed at Spider-Man. Before he could fire Robin pulled out his grappling gun and disarmed him, yanking the gun away. He then leaped over Spider-Man and kicked him across the face.   
“Could say the same about you, red tights,” Robin said.   
“Doesn’t have the same ring as Batboy.”  
“Yeah,” Robin agreed. “But at least when I’m in costume people don’t see my crotch.”  
Spider-Man looked down and then back at Robin again. “Good one.”  
Meanwhile the Batman was no where to be seen. Carl, the man behind the gatling gun sighed. He really wanted to do in the Bat for putting him down at Blackgate. Left him with a black eye too. Carl had it in for that pointy eared son of a bitch ever since them. After all, he was just a dude in a black suit with a bunch of fancy technology. He wasn’t like that Captain America guy who could carry entire trucks. Carl still had some of the playing cards.   
Frustrated that he wouldn’t be the one to do the Bat dirty, Carl fired at the Batmobile. The bullets bouncing harmlessly off its sleek metallic surface. Carl wondered if the Boss’s fancy high tech weapons could do something to that glorified tank. After all it was made out of that fancy Vibralium or whatever. Carl didn’t care about the specifics.   
The boys up top were dealing with the Batman’s colourful sidekick and that Spider-Man character. That just left Carl with a handful of goons up top with that Indian Chandu as a driver. Carl hated Chandu. Pretentious prick.   
“Yo Carl,” Jeff called from up there. “You okay down there?”  
“Yeah,” Carl replied. “Bored out of my wits though. How are y’all holding up?”  
“Fine,” Jeff said. “Spider-Man and Robin are giving the boys a run for their money. Seems they’re headed straight to the boss.”  
Carl chuckled. “Seems like we’re safe here. What do you think happened to the Bat? You think he chickened out. Eh, Jeff.”   
Jeff didn’t reply.   
“Jeff?”  
The truck suddenly veered off course. Carl heard someone yelp. Carl heard horns honking and tyres screeching until the car suddenly crashed into a tree.   
He heard some pained grunts that were silenced, he heard heavy fists. Not knowing what to do Carl sought the metallic comfort of the gatling gun. Even though there was a thick veil of smoke obscuring his view, Carl was ready to fire at anything that moved in front of him.  
Not turning around to see the figure in black behind him.  
…  
The trucks suddenly broke formation as the one with the gatling gun veered so dramatically off course. The truck Spider-Man and Robin were on veered dramatically. Robin tripped downwards but Spider-Man stopped him from hitting the asphalt with his webs.  
“Nice save, tights,” Robin said, staring at the asphalt beneath him that was inches away from grinding his nose into an ugly red and white paste. Spider-Man pulled him up, heaving a little. Suddenly, behind him one of Penguin’s goons raised a club about to knock him out.  
Spider-Man’s senses were buzzing, he knew there was danger but he couldn’t let go of Robin.   
A sudden flash of light and the revving of an engine stopped the thug in his tracks. A bike flew over them like a comet and clattered on the other side of the road. There was a flash of yellow and the man was kicked across the truck, a line stopped him from being reduced to bones.  
“Thanks,” Spider-Man said, as he got Robin back up on the truck. Spider-Man turned to see a woman wearing a mask with short pointy ears goggles plastered on top, more stubs than anything and flowing red hair. She wore a tight leather outfit over a slender body and a big yellow symbol that looked like a bat in the middle complimented by yellow gloves and a yellow cape.   
“Hey boys,” Batgirl said. “Did you miss me?”  
“I don’t even know you,” Spider-Man said. But boy, did he want to know her.  
But again, something in his gut told Spider-Man, told Peter that he knew these people. Batgirl’s red hair looked awfully familiar.  
Robin placed his hand on Spider-Man’s shoulder. “C’mon tights, let’s head out.”   
Robin attached a tightrope to the last truck. The Penguin’s truck. The thugs all had their fire concentrated on the Batmobile after Batman broke their formation by dealing with the gatling gun, leaving Penguin ripe for the taking. All they had to do was zip across and tie up the midget and they were home free.  
“So uh,” Spider-Man said, walking up to Batgirl. “I didn’t catch your name.”  
“Batgirl,” she said with a straight face.  
“Are you Batman’s girlfriend or…?”  
Batgirl laughed. “Hell no.”  
“Is he your father?”  
“Please stop trying to associate me with him.”  
“But you’re called Batgirl.”  
Batgirl tried attaching a line to the Penguin’s truck but all she was greeted with was a hiss of air.   
“Stupid thing decided to stop working now,” Batgirl groaned, slapping the gadget a few times and letting out an exasperated sigh.  
“Need a little help?” Spider-Man asked, walking up to her side.  
“No, I can handle myself,” Batgirl said.  
“Really?” Spider-Man asked, Peter raising an eyebrow but realising Batgirl probably wouldn’t be able to see that.   
“Stupid thing,” Barbara muttered under her breath, slapping the gadget against her thigh.   
“Will you two lovebirds hurry it up?” Robin called, standing atop the Penguin’s truck. “I don’t have all night.”  
Barbara growled, hitting the gadget against the truck. That’s when Spider-Man did something Peter would never do. He grabbed her by the hip.  
“Hey,” Batgirl shouted, Spider-Man pulled her close and Batgirl slapped him across the shoulder. “Let go of me before I pepper spray you. Let go of…”  
Spider-Man attached a web to the truck, zipping across towards it. Barbara screamed as she was whizzed across the air, both her and Spider-Man landing on the roof with a thud.   
“How was that?” Spider-Man asked, Peter grinning under the mask.   
Batgirl tried to hide the giddiness she felt and the newfound feeling of respect she had towards the boy behind that webbed mask.   
“That was,” Barbara said, trying her best to hide her grin.  
Peter waited in anticipation; it was the first time he’d touched a gorgeous girl, unprovoked (besides MJ, but MJ was his best friend, this was different). It made him both nervous and excited, his heart was beating so loud he wanted to make it stop so that Batgirl wouldn’t hear it. Peter was eagerly awaiting her response and…  
“Terrifying,” Batgirl exclaimed. “Let’s never do that again!”  
…  
The wheels of the trucks exploded beneath them. The trucks swerved, crashing into the forest, coming to abrupt halts. The GCPD were closing in on Batman, they would clear out the trash. Meanwhile, Batman had only one goal, one focus. To get to the Penguin’s truck. They were closing in on the city and if that weapon was let loose it would destroy lots of important infrastructure and cost the lives of thousands.  
Batman would not have that.  
And so, he cleared the trucks one by one, causing them to swerve to the side, launching electric bolts to short circuit the batteries. The doors of one of the trucks swung open and from it came a man with a grenade launcher. He fired.  
It barely made a dent.   
The Batmobile, efficiently tore through the trucks one by one, making sure not to kill the men holed up in the trucks. Murderers and rapists, they may be but Batman swore, he vowed, never to take a life. No matter how despicable.  
And soon they were no more trucks, they were no more vehicles. Save for two, the Batmobile and the Penguin’s truck.  
…  
The door slammed right in front of Skinner.   
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you Skinner.”  
Crawling through the window, dressed in red was the Spider-Man. He slid through the window in a way that made Skinner’s stomach lurch. Sitting on the seat next to him and staring at the windshield.  
Skinner tried to open the door again but Spider-Man shut it again with those webs of his, webbing the entire door shut.   
“Now, now Skinner,” Spider-Man said. “Let’s not get too hasty.”   
“W-What do you want?” Skinner whimpered. Letting out a high-pitched cry. “P-Please I’ll do anything. I-I’ll pay you.”  
To Spider-Man’s surprise the guy was crying. And even though his mask covered the worst of it, Peter could smell the strong stench of urine in the air. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was a criminal, Peter would probably have felt sorry for the poor guy.  
“As much as I need the money, surprisingly I also have bills to pay,” Spider-Man said. “I’d rather we do something simpler. How about we drive to the GCPD building?”  
Skinner nodded, a little too quickly. The truck zoomed on ahead. Now Peter did not know the way to the GCPD office but judging by the shine on Skinner’s face from all the sweat running down his body, he figured Skinner wouldn’t be pulling any fast ones.  
Spider-Man placed his legs on the dashboard and hung back, hands resting behind his head.  
As they entered the city grounds, Spider-Man felt something off. Robin said once they’d deal with the Penguin they’d knock against the side of the truck. 30 minutes and there was no knock.  
Spider-Man pat Skinner on the shoulder causing him to jump. “Keep on trucking Skinner, pun intended,” Spider-Man said. “I’ll be right back.”  
And Spider-Man crawled out of the window, slithering out of it like a snake. Skinner could hear his heavy footfalls, his crawling against the side of the truck. It made his heart stop and when the sound disappeared, he let out a sigh of relief.   
The psychiatrist at Blackgate called it arachnophobia and man what he would pay to not experience that again.  
…  
Spider-Man did not expect to see a high-tech weapon pointed straight at his face.  
He was about to fire his webs but the Penguin cut him off.  
“Don’t try anything,” the Penguin said, grinning. “Or this itsy-bitsy Spider will go down the water spout.”  
Spider-Man raised his hand in surrender. At the back of the truck he noticed Robin leaning against the wall, blood running down his shoulder and Batgirl trying to treat the wound. A rather dazed thug pointing the nozzle of the machine gun at the base of her skull.   
And just at that moment the truck entered city grounds.   
The Penguin grinned, an ugly sick grin. “It would be a shame if this went off in the city, wouldn’t it?”  
The Penguin pressed the trigger, a blue ball of energy formed in the centre.   
“C’mon Penguin, old buddy, old pal,” Spider-Man said, Peter trying his hardest to stop his voice from shaking. “Maybe we can work a deal out.”  
“Pal?” Penguin said, smirking. Taking in this moment, savouring it like a man at a restaurant. “If I recall, you called me short.”  
Spider-Man met Batgirl’s eyes. She nodded at him. Robin’s eyes fluttered open.  
“That was a joke,” Spider-Man said, laughing nervously. “You know how friends make jokes.”  
The ball was getting bigger. The Penguin’s grin was getting wider.  
“All I have to do is pull this trigger,” Penguin said. “And squish this little spider.”  
He knew it would be stupid but Spider-Man had to do something. Anything. If this weapon was let loose in the city there was no telling what it could do.  
“What’s the matter Spider-Man?” Penguin sneered. “Cat got your tongue?”  
There was a loud pop. The truck lurched causing the weapon to fly in the air. Spider-Man leapt for it but he missed it by inches, it clattered on the floor. The Penguin scrambled for it but it clattered towards Batgirl who tried to grab it but the thug tripped and the gun hit the wall. Robin dazed tried to get it but the goon pushed him out. Stumbling like zombies, Robin and the thug walked out the truck causing both Batgirl and Spider-Man to grab them and get them out of the way.  
Batgirl and Spider-Man met on a roof, Spider-Man holding the thug and Batgirl holding Robin.  
Below them the Batmobile hummed, cutting around corners, skidding past cars and crashing into lampposts and traffic lights.  
“You go handle the Penguin,” Batgirl said. “I’ll take care of Robin and chuckles over there.”  
Spider-Man nodded and ran off the building, attaching a web to the sides of the building and following behind the Batmobile.   
The truck was swerving and jerking. Penguin stumbled back and forth, the Vibranium weapon shaking in his hands. His thug’s unconscious bodies were littering the streets, causing the Batmobile and oncoming traffic to violently turn to avoid their bodies.   
The truck was missing its right wheel, causing the axle to emit a shrill metal screech with a trail of sparks following suit.   
The truck righted itself, swaying a little but still it corrected itself. The Penguin’s grip on his gun was firm. He would get this son of a bitch and end it, once and for all.   
The ball grew and grew, the Penguin sneered. To hell with Gotham. He would be the one who killed the Batman.   
The Batmobile’s lights flashed upon him and the Penguin was face to face with the metal goliath. Still he remained calm, his finger on the trigger.  
Batman had his finger inches away from the eject button.  
Spider-Man saw the ball grow and grow.  
The Batman ejected.  
The Penguin fired.   
And a wave of destruction followed.  
To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that there are graphic descriptions of violence in a later scene in the chapter. The scene on the cargo ship to be exact. If you're privy or sensitive to violence feel free to skip that scene.

Sirens blared in the distance. Street lamps were twisted like and gnarled, sparks dancing from their remains. Buildings collapsed into themselves, raining rubble down on the street. Cars were upturned and lopsided over the jagged road. Glass covered the sidewalk like snow. In the centre of the road was the Batmobile, or what remained of it. The armour plates were now nothing but scraps, smoke trailed from its engine and all the Batmobile was now was a just a hunk of useless metal.   
Batman and Spider-Man were on top of the roof of one of the buildings that managed to survive the devastation.  
Spider-Man put the pointy eared douche down and let out a sigh of relief.  
“So glad I managed to get to you in time,” Spider-Man said. “You may be an asshole but I’d prefer if Gotham’s favourite vigilante wasn’t a ball of flesh on the street.”  
“You let him get away,” Batman said coolly.  
“Hello,” Spider-Man said. “I saved your life.”  
“And caused the destruction of Gotham infrastructure and the loss of many lives.”  
“And how the hell is it my fault instead of I don’t know, the psychopathic midget.”  
Batman opened his palm revealing a circular device, no smaller than a coin with red and blue wires running through it.  
“This is a Disruptor,” Batman said. “The weapon Penguin was carrying was a Vibranium sound cannon. The disruptor would short circuit the weapon, causing it not function.”  
Batman placed the Disruptor in his belt. “Or it would have if it wasn’t for your intervention.”  
Peter’s legs suddenly felt weak. His heart felt heavy. He looked over the edge of the building and a chill spread across his body. At the bottom he saw crowds of people leaving what remained of their homes, vacant expressions on their faces. Some blood running down their ears, their noses. People were crying, screaming. He heard somebody scream “I can’t hear, I can’t hear.” It was overwhelming.  
“I…” Peter said, his voice shaking. His body numb. “I…”  
“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t interrupted me,” Batman said.  
He didn’t know what came over him but Peter Parker let out a scream. Emotions boiled within him, guilt, sadness, despair. And anger, anger at the man dressed as a bat, anger at himself, anger at everything. He didn’t know why but Peter charged at the Batman, putting all his strength into his punch. He didn’t care what happened to him, he just couldn’t handle all the emotions that were swirling around his chest.  
The Batman side-stepped, causing Peter to come to an abrupt stop as he grabbed his arm.   
“All this power, all this control.”  
Peter tried punching him with his other hand but Batman kicked him across the leg, tripping him over.  
“But you don’t know how to hone it,” Batman said. “You don’t have discipline.”   
Peter placed his hands down, launching himself like a springboard but all Batman did was step back and all Peter hit was air.   
“You rush into things,” Batman said as Peter launched a web at Batman’s chest and tried to carry him over before realising that it was already sliced into half, noticing a Batarang stuck in the ground. “Like a child. Rushing into a world, into a city you know nothing about.”   
Peter charged toward him, attacking Batman with two wide sweeps that Batman dodged with ease. Ducking underneath him, Batman punched him straight in the chest knocking the air out of his body.   
“And that’s what you are,” Batman said. “A naïve, idiotic child. Picking fights with the Mafia, with criminals like the Penguin.”  
“Batman stop,” Batgirl cried, Robin resting on his shoulder. “Leave him alone.”  
Batman ignored her, his eyes focused on Spider-Man. Scrutinising him, waiting for his next attack.  
Peter got up, trying to land a punch. The steam in his body fizzling out. He tried to punch, to kick but all it took to stop him was one punch to the stomach and he crumpled on the ground like a heap of clothing.   
Batman kneeled down, whispering in his ear. “Not knowing that they’re much more dangerous than I am.”  
“That’s enough Batman,” Batgirl said, walking towards him with Robin resting on her shoulder. “Beating him up isn’t going to prove anything.”  
“Take Robin back to the Batcave,” Batman said. “I’ll go look for the Penguin.”  
“Are you even listening to me?”  
While Batgirl and Batman were arguing, Peter was suddenly reminded. Reminded of back in pre-school where the other kids used to gang up on him and laugh him, sometimes even beat him. They used to insult him about the fact that he had no parents and how weak he was. In middle school, it was Flash. He remembered the sneers of him and his cronies, how they used to throw basketballs and him. How they used to shove him in his locker and slap him across the face and how they always used to call him little Puny Parker.  
It was always about how weak he was, always about how he couldn’t fight back. And after that day at the exhibit, after that day he got bitten by that spider he could finally fight back, he had that power to fight back. But that power as he was taught by a great man, came with a responsibility.   
” Hey, pointy ears…” Spider-Man said, groaning. Struggling to get up but getting up nonetheless. “Let me tell you something.”  
Batman turned, walking towards him slowly. Batman’s towered over him like a giant. The black symbol on his chest like a warning sign.  
“Batman, ignore him,” Batgirl said increasingly frustrated. But Batman ignored her. Instead he walked onwards. Frustrated that she was being ignored, Batgirl carried Robin on her shoulder and grappled away, casting one last look at Bruce before descending to the street below her  
But Bruce didn’t care walked towards Peter slowly. His cape trailing behind him like a snake, the bat symbol on his chest a warning sign. He walked towards him like Flash Thompson, like those bullies in pre-school. A walk that seemed casual but was slow and deliberate, in an attempt to intimidate him. On another occasion, Peter would have stepped back in fear but not this time. This time, he stood firm.  
And sure, he might be right. Maybe Peter was in over his head, maybe Peter did cause the destruction of the street below him.  
But that didn’t give Batman the right to guilt-trip him, that didn’t give him the right to beat him.  
And now he was standing face to face with a giant.  
“What?” Batman said.   
“My uncle would not like you.”  
Batman stared at him. “The words of Ben Parker don’t phase me.”  
Peter could feel it in his heart. Could feel the fear creeping into his body like a chill. How did he know? What else did he know? Was he in danger? But Peter steeled himself. He knew that giving into this fear would be a sign of weakness. Would be giving the bully leverage.   
So, he steeled himself and stared Batman dead in his eyes.   
“Don’t you dare say that name,” Peter said. “Or I promise what happens to you next won’t be pretty.”  
Spider-Man turned his back to him, meaning those words. No bully would use the name of his uncle in vain, especially not a freak that dressed up like a bat.   
Batman saw him swing off and the corner of his mouth twitched.  
Kids got spirit, he thought.  
…  
After some rounds on the street to make sure the civilians were alright, Peter went back to Wayne Manor. He had left his clothes there and Aunt May must be throwing a fit. He snuck by the flashing red and blue lights and crawled into what he could only assume was the bathroom window where he left his clothes and his phone. He got into his suit and checked his phone…  
Aunt May: (150 missed calls)  
Oh shit.  
…  
May came out of her car wearing nothing but a robe over her pyjamas. She shuffled through the cars and stormed through the police officers.  
“Ma’am,” said one of the officers. A young man by the name of Peralta. “Ma’am I’m sorry but you’re going to have to answer some questions.”  
“To hell with your questions,” May said. “My nephew is in that mansion.”   
“It’s part of procedure,” the cop said, trailing behind her trying to keep up with her giant strides.   
“What’s the matter here?” Commissioner Gordon said, sporting a cigarette in her mouth.  
Peralta tensed up a little. “Woman over there won’t answer questions. Says she’s here to see her nephew.”  
Gordon squinted, noticing the woman rushing ahead was May Parker. What her nephew was doing at Wayne Manor, Gordon didn’t know. What Bruce Wayne would want with a middle-class orphan; Gordon didn’t know. What he did know was that he did not like seeing the same face twice, especially when it came to his job.   
“Tell me where my nephew is!” May Parker barked at the slender man standing in front of the manor.  
“I assure you. I have no idea where your nephew could be at this moment ma’am,” the man said in a calm, British accent. Unfazed by the woman literally screaming at his face.  
“Then let me in,” May Parker said. “I’ll find him and get out of here.”  
“I’m afraid the police are currently holding an investigation,” the man said calmly.  
“Listen here Jeeves,” May said. “If you don’t let me in, I’ll have to force myself in and you wouldn’t like that, now would you?”  
“How may I help you ma’am?” Commissioner Gordon asked.  
“Why thank you Commissioner Gordon,” May said. “I’d like go inside and see my nephew…”  
“I’m afraid…”  
Gordon was cut off by a frustrated sigh. “You too. I thought you were better than this Gordon.”  
Gordon scratched his hair, looking at Alfred Pennysworth who just shrugged.  
Meanwhile Peter snuck out of the bathroom, jumping to the walls in order to avoid any cops that were investigating around his area.   
“If anything happens to my boy, I’m going to sue you all,” May said, pointing at Gordon and Alfred. “And that spoiled jackass Bruce Wayne who had the bright idea of inviting my nephew to a party full of criminals.”  
Peter tried calling his Aunt but the call wasn’t going through. Shuffling through the crowds of wailing rich people and stern-faced GCPD officers he tried calling her again before he finally noticed a bright blue car parked outside the police cordon. Aunt May’s car.  
Oh no.  
“I’ll count down to ten and if you don’t let me in,” May said.  
“Please calm down Mrs. Parker,” Gordon said. “I’m sure your nephew is fine. I’ve been calling my men and…”  
“Hey May,” Peter said, a little nervously.  
Gordon let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Peter. “See what did I say.”  
May also let out a relieved sigh. “Peter, you’re alright.”  
May wrapped Peter in a hug which he returned. “Yeah. Am I glad to see you Aunt May.”  
“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” May said, letting go of Peter.  
“I was scared,” Peter said, though that was far from the truth.  
“Oh, Peter,” May said, hugging him even more tightly.  
May turned to face Gordon and Alfred. “My nephew is safe, no thanks to you.”  
“It’s fine Aunt May,” Peter said. “They’re just doing their jobs.”  
But Aunt May ignored him, jabbing a finger at Alfred’s chest. “And you,” she said. “Tell your Master or whatever the hell you call him not to come anywhere near my nephew. Tell him and his ward or whatever he calls that Grayson boy.”  
Aunt May turned around, walking towards the car. “Come on Peter, let’s go home.”  
Peter nodded, giving a weak smile to Commissioner Gordon and Alfred before following behind his Aunt.  
“And you, Peter,” Aunt May said. “You need to stop hanging out with that Grayson boy. He’s nothing but trouble.”  
She entered the car, slamming the door shut behind her.   
“But Dick had nothing to do with this,” Peter said. “It’s not his fault the Penguin came and crashed the party.”  
“I don’t care who’s fault it is,” May said. “I’m not going to risk putting you in danger.”  
“But I wasn’t in any danger,” Peter protested.   
“Then what happened to your face?” Aunt May said. “If you weren’t in any danger, huh? What are all those bruises?”  
Peter stared at the rear-view mirror and was taken aback to see how much of his face was covered in bruises. His hair was a ruffled mess there was blood running down his cheek.  
“Oh geez,” Aunt May said, noticing the blood. “Peter do you want me to take to the hospital?”  
“No, I’ll be fine…”  
May leaned over to him, touching his cheek. “You sure… I…”  
“I’m not a baby Aunt May,” Peter said. “I can take care of myself.”  
“Your uncle could take care of himself and see what happened to him.”  
Aunt May started up the car, driving in complete silence. Surprised Peter wasn’t saying anything, May turned to see…  
Peter staring at her, shock, disbelief and rage all written on his bruised face. The anger in his blue eyes made Aunt May want to hide in a corner. “What did you say?”  
Aunt May’s mouth was dry. Her heart was heavy at the realisation of the words that escaped her mouth. Looking at Peter, he remembered all those times her husband and Peter used to go to the barn, building god knows what. How her husband tried to make Peter laugh with funny faces after the unfortunate accident that took away his parents and letting out an excited cheer when Peter smiled and then finally laughed. How Peter was the closest thing to the child she and Ben had wanted to have all those years ago when they got married but couldn’t. “Look I’m sorry…”  
“No,” Peter said, cutting her off, his voice firm. “You can’t just say that about Uncle Ben and apologise.”  
Aunt May was trying to stop her voice from shaking. “Look, I know how much your uncle means to you but…”  
“First you tell me that I can’t hang out with my only friend in Gotham,” Peter said. “And now you say that about the man who raised me. No Aunt May, there’s no way in hell you know what he meant to me.”  
Seeing her crying like this made Peter feel guilty, he wanted to turn away and apologise but Aunt May had no right to talk about him like this. Nobody did.   
“I’m sorry Peter,” Aunt May said, struggling to say the words. Tears running down her face. “I just… I don’t want to lose you.”  
Peter laughed without joy. “You already did.”  
…  
A few weeks later…  
A few weeks had passed since the Wayne Manor incident and neither the Penguin nor his goons were anywhere to be seen. And much to Gotham’s and Batman’s surprise, neither was the elusive Spider-Man. The last time he’d been seen was after he had helped the people who were affected by the carnage of the Penguin’s sound cannon and since then, nobody saw not a single sliver of red on the rooftops of Gotham.  
And Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon hadn’t seen Peter Parker either. He barely attended class and was only there for tests and special assignments, leaving them barely enough time to talk.   
Which surprised Bruce. After that brave stand he didn’t expect Peter Parker to just give up. Especially after all the things he said to him.   
Water dripped down the cold, damp caves of the Batcave. The microphone on the Batcomputer beeped.   
“Master Wayne, Ms. Gordon is here to see you,” said Alfred.   
“Bring her in.”  
The Batcave was quite except for the occasional screeching of bats and Richard’s grunts and heaves as he jumped from monkey bar to bar.  
The door to the Batcave hummed open and the footsteps of Barbara Gordon echoed through the cave walls. Judging by how fast and heavy her footsteps were across the platform, Bruce assumed she was very angry. And the subject of her anger was…  
“Bruce what the hell was that?” Barbara said.  
“What the hell was what?” Bruce asked, pulling up files on the Penguin and GCPD interrogations of his goons. Turns out most of the thugs involved in the Wayne manor raid weren’t in fact Penguin’s cronies but rather hired help from the streets so none of them knew where the weapons were located. None of them except Skinner who was nowhere to be seen since the Wayne Manor incident.   
“That test of yours,” Barbara said, waving her hands around. “Not only did you cost us the investigation but now Penguin is nowhere to be seen.”  
“It was to see if he was ready,” Bruce said.   
“Ready for what?”   
Bruce was silent.  
“Ready for what, Bruce?” Barbara exclaimed. “All I see this as is your opportunity to beat up Peter.”  
“I agree with Barbs, Bruce,” Dick said, wiping his sweat with his towel. “Just what do you hope to gain from all of this?”  
“Gotham is dangerous…”  
“You think he doesn’t know that?” Barbara said. “For fucks sake Bruce, his Uncle died. If anybody knows Gotham is dangerous, it’s him.”  
Bruce was silent.   
“We can’t keep hiding this from him,” Barbara said. “We’re his friends Bruce. What do you think will happen when he finds out it’s us behind Robin and Batgirl? We’re his only friends. What do you think he’ll do when he finds out that his closest friends in Gotham were all in on this ‘test’ of yours?”  
“He won’t.”  
“How can you be so sure?” Barbara asked. “Dick here has a bandage on his shoulder. The same shoulder where a bullet grazed Robin. How long before he puts two and two together?”  
Bruce was silent.  
“I don’t know about you Bruce, but I don’t think I’ll be able to keep this up any longer,” Barbara said. “I don’t want to break his heart.”  
Bruce ignored her, staring at his computer. The cold blue light washing over him.   
“Are you even listening?” Barbara said, walking up to him. “Do you even care, huh Bruce?”  
Barbara slammed his desk. “Answer me!”  
Dick grabbed his shoulders. “Leave him.”  
“I know but…”  
Dick shook his head. “He’ll never listen, no matter how much we try.”  
“But…”  
“Believe me, I know,” Dick said, giving her a warm smile. “Worked with him for five years, remember?”  
Barbara nodded, gently pushing Dick away and walking away from Bruce.  
Dick turned to Bruce, staring him straight in the eye.  
“She might not show it but she cares about you,” Dick said. “She cares about all of us.”  
Bruce was as still as a stone.  
“I…”   
Dick shook his head.  
“Look, keep your mouth shut all you want,” Dick said. “But you’re pushing her away. You’re pushing us all away. Alfred’s worried, Barbs is worried, hell even I am.”  
Dick sighed. “So, you can shut up all you want but just know those walls won’t hold up for long. And if you keep at it, we won’t be there when they break.”  
Bruce was silent.   
“Master Wayne,” Alfred said. “Commissioner Gordon put a call through the private line, a new development in the Vibranium case has just popped up.”  
“Put him in.”  
Dick walked away from him, walked to Barbara who was sitting on top of the monkey bars, rubbing her arms. Dick followed, sitting next to her.  
“He wasn’t always like this,” Barbara said.  
Dick smirked, sitting next to her. “Barbs, if anyone knows that, I do.”  
“He was the only one in this godforsaken city who treated me, treated Batgirl like an equal,” Barbara said. “Hell, even my dad looked down on me.”  
Dick pat her back.   
“After the Batman revealed who he was, someone so formidable finally seemed so… human,” Barbara said. “I started to respect him too. He was a good friend and a good mentor. Cold but still a good man. But ever since the Castle case…”  
The Castle case was the murder of the wife and two children of GCPD officer Frank Castle after he had arrested key members of the Falcone family. Castle was never the same ever since.  
“Yeah,” Dick said. “Those children, they were…”  
“I don’t want to think about it.”  
Dick nodded.   
“He didn’t even visit me when I got shot,” Dick said. “It was Alfred tending to my wounds.”  
“Good old Alfred,” Barbara said, smiling.  
Dick chuckled. “Yeah.”  
Dick looked down. “After the whole Two-Face incident back when I was twelve and stupid, I was in bed for days. Bruce visited me for days on end, sitting by my bed, ruffling my hair. He reminded me of my…”  
Dad. He wanted to say his dad. But after that, after he recovered, all the warmth, all the love disappeared. Bruce was never the same. He was colder, more distant. But he was still watchful, he still showed he cared but…  
“It’s like something’s holding him back,” Dick said. “He keeps his emotions behind a wall. Sometimes I wish he’d just… let us in.”  
Barbara nodded. Patting his back.  
The Batcomputer turned off and Dick and Barbara heard a bike rev.   
They both jumped off the monkey bars, heading towards Bruce who was in his cowl.  
“What happened?” Barbara asked.   
“There’s a new lead in the case,” Batman said, wearing goggles.  
“Do you need help?” Barbara asked.  
Batman shook his head. “It’s an investigation. You two should patrol the city, see if Skinner and Penguin show their ugly faces.”  
There was a silence as the bike revved up.  
“Bruce,” Barbara said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Take care of…”  
The bike zoomed off leaving both Dick and Barbara behind in a trail of smoke.  
…  
Working at McDonalds was mind numbingly bland for Peter, like the meat. From flipping the meat, to filling the tasteless milkshakes and dealing with his workmate Chad (who shared all his shifts) who smelt like pot and talked about anarchy and how the government had cameras in the milkshakes.   
Peter was so used to the smell of mouldy cheese and bland meat that he’d do anything to escape his routine. Hell, he’d even study at the school library like he lied to Aunt May about. There was no time to change into Spider-Man cause of the curfew Aunt May (in her infinite wisdom) placed on him so Peter was stuck in this monotonous routine.  
Until the day he saw Skinner by the drive-by.  
At first, he didn’t believe it. What the hell would a wanted criminal be doing at a McDonalds. But then he noticed the bad patch up job at the truck’s back door and the fact that he was wearing a beanie and sunglasses to cover up his face that Peter was sure that it was Skinner. Before Peter could get close enough to confirm, Skinner shut the door to his car and left. Peter, cursing himself for not being fast enough wanted to follow him but he couldn’t risk being seen scaling walls in a McDonalds uniform, that would definitely turn heads. But all hope was not lost. He asked the drive-by lady and she said Skinner was a frequent customer. She asked why Peter was so curious but Peter ignored her.  
Sure enough, the next day he saw Skinner’s truck. The following day, Peter took a shorter shift.  
At the back of McDonalds was the garbage lot that nobody besides potheads and teenagers who could climb walls frequented. Peter was about to start climbing but…  
“Yo Petey-O,” Chad said in his slow, always tired-sounding voice. “Whatchu doing back there?”  
Peter quickly dropped from the wall, a forced smile on his face. “Same as you I suppose.”  
Which wasn’t a good answer because Chad was cradling a giant purple bong like a baby. The relaxed look on Chad’s face was suddenly replaced by one of grim seriousness.   
“Petey-O,” Chad said, walking towards him, placing his bong one side and placing an arm around’s Peter’s shoulder. Peter could smell the pot in his breath. “Let me give you some advice…”  
After some (surprisingly) wise words from Chad about weed and its dangerous effects and how Chad didn’t want Peter to end up like him, Skinner had already driven off and Peter had to head back home.  
The next day, Peter managed to climb up the rooftops. Peter figured dressing up as Spider-Man would scare Skinner off from this area so he figured he’d have to dress up in civilian clothes, covering up his face with a hoodie. Peter carefully stalked Skinner through rooftops, making sure not to teeter too close to the edge so as to not attract attention. Luckily the streets were relatively empty.  
Skinner drove to another lane which meant Peter would have to leap over to another building. Peter was about to make a running jump but…  
Peter felt his phone rang in his pocket. He skidded to a halt and saw just who was calling.  
Peter let out an exasperated sigh.   
“Hey,” Peter said.   
“You’re getting kind of late,” May said, without saying anything more.  
“Yeah, yeah I’m on the way.”  
Peter hung up and sighed. Skinner was just inches away from being caught, all Peter had to do was tail him and then he’d be able to catch the Penguin too.   
But Aunt May and his stupid job always got in the way. Peter let out a groan as he headed back home. If only there was some way to track him down, to keep him in Peter’s sights while Peter was busy with his other responsibilities.  
He dragged himself into his bed without, muttering a half-hearted excuse as to why he was late before sliding into his bed. He wished Aunt May wasn’t down his throat with this stupid curfew otherwise he’d be able to tail Skinner with no problem.  
That’s when he noticed the battered red and blue box on his table. His gift from Bruce Wayne that he had barely touched, let alone opened since the party. And an idea started forming in his head.  
…  
Gotham Harbour was once a mighty port laden with majestic ships and mahogany ports was now reduced to a run-down, withered husk of its former self, abundant with drug deals and illegal weapons. Now the Gotham Harbour was dense with GCPD officers, red and blue lights flashing across the inky black sea and a bright yellow cordon snaking around a giant cargo ship.  
“Batman,” Commissioner Gordon said, relief spread across his face. “Thought you’d never show.”  
“What happened?”  
“It’s a bloodbath,” Gordon said. “Bunch of smugglers, or what’s left of em were found by the janitor this evening.”   
“Ship doesn’t look like it’s from Gotham.”  
“Well get this,” Gordon said. “It isn’t. It’s a stolen cargo ship from Somalian ports. The people who stole it where smugglers from Wakanda.”  
“Wakanda?”  
Gordon nodded. “What they smuggled from there, God knows. Crew was led by one Ababas Liamsi. Wakandan born. Arrested for fraud and one hell of a debt, he was supposed to meet his buyer at Gotham two months ago but then this happened…”  
Gordon beckoned to at Batman to follow him under the cordon. “Take a look.”  
Batman followed Gordon through the eerily empty ship. Outside the ship, Batman saw one cop kneeled over, puking into the river. The rest all had pale faces, faces of shock, faces of disbelief. Batman knew Gotham, he knew on the daily just what Gotham’s finest had seen. Men dipped in acid, innocent men and women with their faces removed, their genitals mutilated and a whole array of violent crimes perpetrated the worst Gotham had to offer. But this, this was something not even the GCPD had seen before.  
As they navigated the multi-coloured cargo containers, Batman saw men. Or what remained of them. Limbs scattered around like toys in a playground, men torn in half, their intestines spilling from their stomachs. Heads bobbing back and forth with the ship, rolling like soccer balls.  
“Jesus,” Gordon said, almost stepping on a man’s eyeball. As they went inside the trail of blood continued. The narrow hallways of the ship were caked in blood and bodies, fingers, noses, heads, torsos, intestines all littered the floor they walked on. Bodies were hung on the roof, their guts the only thing keeping them tethered. One man had his entire abdomen split open revealing what could only be described as the world’s most detailed anatomy lessons. Bodies were twisted like twigs; limbs were bent at odd angles.  
Whatever did this wasn’t human, Batman thought. Whatever did this was a monster.  
“This doesn’t compare to what was in the vault room,” Gordon said, stepping over a man’s arm.  
And Gordon was right. The vault room was a literal bloodbath. Every inch of the vault was covered in blood, with limbs scattered all over the room and organs dotting the floor.  
At the end of the room was a large silver vault. By the vault a man’s head was stuck on a metal stake, his face forever trapped in an expression of fear.  
The head of Ababas Liamsi  
…  
Using an RFID chip, he found in the gift box and a few transistors and batteries he managed to build himself a tracker. The tracker was connected to an app he downloaded that allowed him to trace any RFID chip he registered into the app. He wrapped this intricate, delicate tangle of wires and chips in a red shell shaped like a spider.  
He decided he’d call it the spider tracker. Yeah, Peter thought. That sounded cool. He managed to make around six of them before running out of supplies but he figured one was enough. Using some of the scraps from Bruce Wayne’s gift he also managed to modify his web shooters. On the side of the little bracelet was a small, flat button. One press (and a really loud whirring sound later) he’d be able to effortlessly switch between his web shooters and spider trackers effortlessly.  
Now all that was left was to see if it worked.  
Skinner pulled up at the drive through (as usual) but this time Peter was ready. While Skinner made his order, Peter rolled up his sleeve and launched the spider tracker underneath the truck. It stuck underneath (thanks to some clever use of electromagnets on Peter’s part) and Peter let out a quite whoop of victory.   
Now all that was left was to see whether or not the app registered the RFID and sure enough there was a red dot at DC 27, the street Peter was on right now.  
Peter grinned, now he could work in peace knowing that whatever move Skinner made would be shown right here on his little app. Skinner reversed, almost knocking over Peter.  
“Watch out, idiot!” he called, driving off. His car emitting a burst of smoke.  
“We’ll see who the idiot is, Skinner,” Peter mumbled. “We’ll see soon enough.”  
Peter went back into the cheesy paradise of McDonalds, welcoming the stench of processed meat, knowing this time he’d catch Skinner once and for all.  
…  
Turns out Peter was the idiot. The big red dot was still stuck on DC 27 which meant the magnets Peter was using were busted and sure enough, they were. They barely stuck on the fridge for five minutes. Peter sighed but didn’t lose hope. There was a junkyard close by so Peter just had to go there and find some magnets. It wasn’t the first time he’d gone dumpster diving. He once had to do that with Uncle Ben to find parts for a computer.  
It was starting to drizzle so Peter found pulled on a jacket, throwing a hoodie over his head. He put on his web shooters just in case and rolled his sleeves over them with his bag slung over his shoulder Peter was at the door, ready to leave.  
“Where are you going?” Aunt May said. Peter turned to see her, arms crossed, a stern expression on her face.  
“Back to school,” Peter said. “I forgot something.”  
“It’s almost curfew.”  
“I’ll only be five minutes,” Peter said.   
“I want to talk, Peter,” Aunt May said.   
“We’ll talk later.”  
Aunt May stood in front of him. “I want to talk now Peter.”  
“And I have a book to get from the library,” Peter said, brushing past her.   
“Look,” May said, standing in front of Peter again. Rubbing her eyes. “We haven’t talked ever since what happened after the party and…”  
“Yeah and we can talk later.”  
“Peter,” Aunt May said firmly. “Please.”  
Peter scoffed. “Talk about what. Ben? Blame him for dying again?”  
“That’s not what…”  
“Really,” Peter said. “It seemed that you meant every word.”  
Peter pushed her aside, ignoring her calling after him. He ran down the stairs, trying his hardest to ignore the guilt stabbing his heart.  
…  
Upon further inspection, Ababas’s head was sliced cleanly off his body. The rest of his body was nowhere to be found. It seemed the perp was trying to make a statement and Ababas was the unfortunate victim. Judging by the fear in his face, it seemed that his limbs were ripped one by one while he was still alive.  
“Poor man,” Gordon said. “This is one hell of a way to go, criminal or not.”  
Compared to the vault room, the vault was squeaky clean. Almost comically so. There was not a single drop of blood across its smooth silver surface. It was robbed clean, the shelves empty. What seemed to be weapon holders empty.   
“Damn this is one hell of a vault,” Gordon said. “It’s bigger than the rooms in this godforsaken ship.”  
The entire vault was cleaned off its contents. Nothing remained, not a single shred of evidence as to who the dealers were or who the perpetrator was.   
Nothing except a single white card in the middle of the room.  
…  
Peter was scrounging through mounds of old toys and computers when he felt an old familiar buzz.   
He heard the sound of heavy boots across mounds of garbage, splashing across puddles. They were around, five or six of them. He heard the metallic click of a switchblade.  
Peter turned around to see he was surrounded by half a dozen men. Each of them sporting battered trench coats and worn out clothes. The one in front had a switchblade dangling in front of him.  
Peter raised his hands in surrender. “Look, I don’t want any trouble.” Peter knew he could take these men on without lifting a finger but he also knew that life had dealt them an unfair hand, otherwise they wouldn’t be out here in a junkyard.  
The man in front laughed. “Put your hands down boy, we ain’t the cops.”  
Peter swung his hands down.  
“We want your jacket boy,” the man said. “It gets mighty cold out here and us old men need all the warmth we can get.”  
Peter wanted to point out the fact that they were around three people who looked like they were in their twenties but he figured it was best to keep his mouth shut.   
Peter took out his jacket and handed it to the old man who yanked it away from him.  
“Thank you,” said the old man. “Thank you very much, young man. You’re very kind.”  
The rain poured on Peter’s hair and through his shirt making Peter wanting to cover up but he figured showing weakness in front of these guys wouldn’t be the best idea. Luckily Peter was wearing a long sleeve shirt so his web shooters were well hidden.  
“Now if you’ll excuse me…”  
“Nah kid,” said the old man, causing Peter to stop in his tracks. “Those clothes be looking mighty fine and the boys and seeing how cold Gotham is getting…”  
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Peter said. “It’s cold for me too, you know?”  
The old man let out a hollow laugh. “Kid’s got some lip on him.” The old man walked towards him, the tip of the knife inches away from his Adam’s apple. “Look, kid. You’re surrounded. We boys have dealt with far worse than a kid with a sharp mouth, you’re nothing special kid.”  
“I can say the same thing,” Peter said.   
The man laughed. “Look at this bugger.”  
The other homeless men cracked their knuckles, others drew rusted knives and wooden clubs.  
“Last warning boys.”  
Somebody cleared their throat. “What’s going on here?”  
Everybody turned to see a middle-aged man- Peter assumed he was in his forties- with a hooked nose, wearing faded green work clothes.   
Everybody put their weapons back as soon as the man made his presence known. The old man also put his switchblade back in his pocket. The man in the work clothes walked towards the old man who turned.   
“Murphy?”   
“This kid here gave us his jacket,” Murphy said. “Ain’t no big deal.”  
“He gave you his jacket?” the man asked.  
Murphy nodded.  
“Voluntarily?”  
“Yeah,” Murphy said.   
“While you guys were carrying knives and clubs.”  
Murphy was quite after that.  
“Give the kid his jacket Murph,” the man.  
“But it’s cold,” Murphy said.  
“Could say the same thing about the kid,” the man said. “You feeling cold kid?”  
Peter nodded.   
“See, give him back his jacket Murph,” the man said. “He’s feeling cold.”  
Murphy, begrudgingly gave his Peter’s jacket back. “You’re lucky kid,” Murphy whispered.  
Peter put on his jacket. The man walked over to him. “I’ll deal with the kid,” the man said. “You boys walk home now, rains starting to get heavy.”  
Murphy’s gang disbanded. Murphy stood, staring straight at Peter.  
“That includes you, Murph.”   
Murphy turned around, side-eyeing Peter before following behind his gang.  
“Now kid,” the man said. “It’s starting to pour. How about we head on over to my place and you tell me just what exactly a kid like you is doing out here?”  
…  
It was a playing card, Batman noticed. A playing card with a pale white face with vivid green hair and a blood red sneer. A playing card not of a king or jack, no. It was of the joker.  
…  
Rain clattered off the metal sheets that made up the roof of the man’s house, a dingy shack made up of wooden boards and rusted metal sheets covered with blankets. The inside was a cluttered mess with motherboards and wires cluttered around and scraps of old technology invading the worn wooden desk. On a makeshift shelf were rows of canned food with cans also contributing to the mess that was the floor.   
“Make yourself at home,” the man said. “It’s not much but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”  
Peter found himself sitting on a worn-out sofa, a coffee table propped up by three legs and a stack of old hard covered books in front of him.   
“You want hot chocolate?” the man asked. “It’s only two days off.”  
Peter shook his head, smiling. “No thanks.”   
The man smiled warmly and got to making hot chocolate on a gas stove. While he making coffee, Peter noticed a picture frame on the man’s desk. On it was a picture of the man, looking a little younger, with a pretty blonde woman who Peter assumed was his wife and a young girl with a bright smile.  
The man sat across him on a creaky stool, taking a sip out of a metal mug.   
“That’s my wife Chery and my kid Valeria,” the man said. “Pretty little things, aren’t they?”  
Peter nodded in agreement but noticed there was a sadness in his voice as he talked about them.  
“So, what brings a kid like you to a place like this?” the man asked.  
“Science project,” Peter said.  
The man laughed. “Must be one hell of a science project if you’re at the junkyard at this hour.”  
“Why?” Peter asked. “What’s wrong with the junkyard.”  
“Lot’s of desperate people make their home here,” the man said. “Them being desperate is also what makes them dangerous.”  
“And you?” Peter asked.  
“I lost my job,” the man said. “And my wife and kid. Only place a man like me can call home is down here.”  
Peter nodded sympathetically. As a young kid his Uncle Ben used to always drift from job to job in order to provide him. Peter was young and naïve back then to even care about his struggles back then but now he understood full well how much Uncle Ben sacrificed for him.  
“But enough about me,” the man said. “What do you need for your little science project?”  
“A magnet,” Peter said. “Strong enough to stick on uneven and unstable surfaces.”  
The man nodded. “I have just what you need.” He got up. “See, I’m working on my own science project too.”  
The man pointed a large machine at the back of the room covered in a white curtain surrounded by wires and tools.  
The man shuffled through a tool box before finally pulling out a some black magnets that he handed to Peter.  
“Will this do?”  
Peter nodded. “Perfect.”  
Peter put it back in his bag. Before he left the man called out to him.   
“I didn’t catch your name kid,” he said. “Us men of science need to stick together, you know?”  
“Peter,” Peter said. “Peter Parker. Yours?”  
The man nodded. “Parker, that’s a nice name. As for me…”  
The man smiled warmly at Peter. “My name is Toomes. Adrian Toomes but folks around here call me the Vulture.”  
To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the support! This has got to be the longest chapter I have written in my entire life (I'm not joking) clocking in at nearly 7000 words. I'd like to thank everyone for commenting and leaving kudos and I hope I see you guys for the upcoming chapters. As you can see, I have a lot planned.


	8. Chapter 7

** Batman and Spider-Man: Year One **

** Chapter 7 **

The force that would haunt Gotham for the rest of her days did not begin with an explosion or a gunshot. It began with a single radio announcement.

“Ladies and gentleman of Gotham City,” said a voice. A very happy sounding voice. A voice so happy sounding that you could almost see the big red grin behind it. “We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to make an important announcement. At exactly midnight, Henry Claridge will be killed. You heard that right folks, Henry Claridge will be killed at midnight. I’m sure none of you have even heard about Mr. Claridge here but I can assure you, he will die tonight. So please say your goodbyes, confess any feelings you may have been keeping inside because in exactly twelve hours, our good man is going to die.” The voice burst into a fit of maniacal laughter. “And you can trust the word of good old Joker because let me tell you…”

The voice paused. “I’m never wrong,” the Joker said without any mirth.

After the announcement there was static. Only static. No commercials, nothing. GCPD officials would storm the offices of Gotham Station to see that everyone there was dead. Their corpses littering the hallways and the staircases, most of them piled up at the entrance as if trying to escape the very air they breathed. Their faces told a different story. Their mouths twisted into a smile, an eerie large smile that contradicted the frozen look of fear that could be seen in their glassy eyes.

They had all died laughing.

…

That afternoon, GCPD officers were seen in the halls of Henry Claridge’s mansion. According to Claridge nobody had entered or exited the mansion except some of the workers. Despite his protests, Claridge was forced to stay inside his house.

“It’s outrageous I tell you,” Claridge said, his sofa all but squeaking underneath his bulky frame. “You fools really believe the words of that madman?”

“He murdered countless innocent people, Mr. Claridge,” Commissioner Gordon said, trying his best not to let his irritation show. He hated rich folks. They never listened to instructions even with their lives on the line. “This is for your own safety.”

“Bah,” Claridge scoffed. “I’ll be safer outside than with a bunch of uniformed idiots who can’t even do their jobs. A prisoner in my own home? Unbelievable.”

Gordon sighed, scratching his hair. He didn’t get paid enough for this.

If you were standing outside Mr. Claridge’s mansion you’d notice a black Lamborghini, a Lamborghini many people associated with Bruce Wayne. Bruce would occasionally keep watch, peering through the windshield and making subtle rounds around Claridge’s manor.

“I’m sorry Mr. Wayne but we can’t let you through,” said the cops stationed at the gate.

“How about some champagne?” Bruce asked. “I have some in the trunk. Surely you’ll change your minds after a good drink?”

“What seems to be the problem here?” Commissioner Gordon asked.

“Wayne here says he has a business meeting with Claridge,” said the cop at the gate.

Commissioner Gordon sighed. the gate creaked open. He took out a cigarette.

“You smoke, Mr. Wayne?” Gordon asked, offering him one.

Wayne shook his head. “Please Commissioner, if you’d let me in. I have a business meeting and…”

Gordon shook his head. “Sorry Mr. Wayne. Mr. Claridge is in police lockdown. Some Joker guy made a claim to his life. Haven’t you heard the news?”

Wayne laughed. “The news bores me. But if you insist…”

Gordon sighed. Rich people, all the same. Even after being kidnapped by a homicidal maniac, Bruce Wayne still looked for ways to earn money. But there was something about the way Bruce was acting, something that didn’t sit quite right with Gordon. One of them being his eyes. They were darting around, focused. Not once did Mr. Wayne make eye contact with Gordon. His eyes were trained on the guards, their stations, the mansion like a soldier scouting out possible routes. Not once did he look at Gordon and not once did, he make eye contact. Not once was his focus trained on him.

There was something about Mr. Wayne. Something that set him apart from the rest of Gotham’s rich and famous. From the way he was built, to the way he acted. Bruce Wayne was somebody with a lot of hidden secrets.

Secrets that Gordon couldn’t care less about.

The Commissioner took a puff of his cigarette as the evening cast an orange glow on his face and the clock struck 6.

…

It was quite at McDonalds that afternoon. Everybody was looking at the TV or hunched over their radios with grim expressions on their face. Some of the regulars were missing, probably because they had lost loved ones at the radio station. Today Chad wasn’t here. He had a girlfriend who worked at the station.

Peter decided today was the day. His suit was in his bag and he had his web slingers on, hidden by the yellow sleeves of his work-suit. Today was the day that Peter would deal with the Penguin. After alerting the guards to the weapon location, his next target would be the Joker. Peter swore to himself that he would be brought to justice especially after the hundreds of people he had killed.

“Peter Parker is that you?” a familiar voice asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Barbara Gordon was in front of him, a wide grin on her face.

Oh no, Peter thought. Why did she have to see him here? At McDonalds at all places? Wearing a hat with a big yellow M in the middle. And why the hell did she have to come now, especially when…

Peter heard the familiar hiss of Skinner’s truck.

“W-what are you doing here?” Peter asked.

“Dad’s working late and mom’s too lazy to cook so we decided we’d order something,” Barbara said. “But really, Peter? Is that the way you greet one of your friends? Especially after we haven’t talked in such a long time?”

“I’m kind of busy right now,” Peter said. “Can we talk later?”

The truck halted at the drive-in. Skinner’s head poked out of the window of his car.

“That’s bull,” Barbara said. She grabbed his arm and dragged him to one of the empty seats. “C’mon Pete, let’s catchup.”

Peter sighed and sat across Barbara; his eyes focused not on the pretty girl in sitting across him but on Skinner.

“So, this is what you’ve been up to?”

Peter nodded as Skinner peered at the menu, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Peter,” Barbara said, snapping her fingers in front of him but Peter was still had his attention turned to the window.

“Peter,” Barbara said, a little louder this time causing Peter’s attention to her.

“Y-yeah,” Peter stammered. “What’s up?”

There was still time before Skinner got his order but not enough time for Peter to get there and launch a spider-tracker.

“I was asking what made you work here.”

“Oh, money,” Peter said with a light laugh, his attention still diverted. “You know, I gotta pay bills and stuff. Specially after my Uncle died.”

Barbara grabbed Peter’s hands which caused Peter to finally pay attention to her. “Remember, Peter. If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

Peter’s face was as red as the raspberry milkshakes they served here. Barbara stifled the urge to let out a laugh. Peter was so adorable. While Peter was fumbling, looking for words to say Barbara cast a quick glance outside the window to see what Peter was so occupied with and…

Oh, Barbara thought. Skinner really was an idiot.

“T-thanks,” Peter stammered, swinging his hand to the side as if he was touching a hot potato. “Look Barbara, it was a really nice talk but I have work to do and…”

Barbara shook her head. “No, no I get you. No worries.”

“You want to meet up…” Peter mumbled.

“What’s that?”

“You want to meet up for dinner this weekend?” Peter asked, his voice a little high pitched. “Or lunch. Whatever floats your boat.”

Barbara had the most gorgeous smile on her face. “I’d love to.”

Peter perked up, trying his best to stifle the huge smile he could feel creeping up his mouth. He had a job to do, after all. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.

Skinner’s truck started up. Peter ran to the smoothie machine, pushing aside the guy standing in front of it. All the while Barbara stared at him from the corner of her eye, smiling. Peter filled up one of the cartons, apologising to the guy before running to the glass doors.

“Parker,” shouted a deep loud voice that Peter did not want to hear. His monster of a manager was standing behind him. Large, barrel chested and hairy, Mr. Farook was not somebody Peter wanted to piss off even with his spider power.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m headed out,” Peter said. Skinner’s truck was having trouble starting up. Peter could hear the engine coughing and spluttering and hear Skinner mumble curses under his breath.

“I’m headed out.”

“With a slushie?” Mr. Farook asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.

“With a slushie.”

The engine started revving, Peter resisted the urge to burst out of the door and ignore Mr. Farook.

“What did I say about the slushie machine?” Mr. Farook asked, crossing his arms.

“I don’t know, what _did_ you say?” Peter said, realising that sometimes it was better to keep his mouth shut.

Mr. Farook’s eyes looked like they could raze mountains. “I told you and many other customers that it wasn’t working and once you switch it on…”

The machine exploded in a multicoloured rain of milk and artificial flavours covering the customers and Mr. Farook in a rainbow coloured paint of raspberry, cream soda and blueberry flavoured slushies.

Peter used this as an opportunity to sneak past Mr. Farook just as Skinner’s truck started up.

Peter sprinted towards the truck, his enhanced muscles closing the distance in less than a second. Before the truck could enter the lane, Peter was slamming his hand against the side.

“Hey,” Peter shouted. “You forgot something.”

Skinner poked his head out of the window. “Jesus kid, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

Peter shrugged, walking toward Skinner. “Sorry sir, it’s just that you forgot your slushie.” Peter waved the plastic cup in front of Skinner.

“I don’t need a slushie kid,” Skinner said. “Already got myself a chocolate milkshake.”

Peter saw a milkshake holster tucked comfortably in a cup holster.

“Look kid if you’re just going to…”

Skinner had no time to finish his sentence as Peter tossed the slushie straight into his face. While Skinner cursed Peter crouched down, launching a tracker underneath the truck before popping back up in front of Skinner.

“I’m sorry sir,” Peter said, apologising profusely. “Butterfingers.”

“What the fuck, kid?” Skinner said, wiping his hands against his seat.

Just then, Peter heard Mr. Farook screaming after him, marching toward Peter in a rainbow coloured fury.

“I demand you clean me up kid,” Skinner growled. “That was some fucking service you pulled there.”

Mr. Farook marched towards him, his chest puffed out, his eyes blazing.

“Do it now kid, I have places to be.”

“I’ll ask the manager,” Peter said.

“Well go and ahead and ask him then.”

“He’s right here,” Peter said.

Mr. Farook reached to grab Peter’s shoulder. Peter ducked and Mr. Farook was standing face to face with Skinner.

“Fantastic,” Skinner said. “I demand to be cleaned up.”

“Wait let me deal…”

Skinner shook his head. “Hell no. That stupid kid told me to talk to the manager and I’m standing face to face with him.”

Skinner and Mr. Farook got into an argument. Peter walked away from them and checked the tracking app. Sure enough there was a red dot signalling Skinner’s location. Peter, satisfied, headed to the drive in and made an order.

“That was some stunt you pulled Parker,” Chloe, the girl at the till said. “And damn, you can run.”

Peter chuckled. “It’s nothing.”

“What will you be having?” Chloe asked.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger,” Peter said. “And a… Big Mac. For a special someone.”

Chloe typed out Peter’s order as Peter pulled out his wallet. Chloe shook her head.

“It’s on the house,” she said. “Someone who has the balls to pull off a stunt like that deserves it.”

Peter grinned. “Thanks.”

“You know you’re going to get a whipping from the boss-man tomorrow, right?”

But Chloe seemed far away and so did Skinner’s and Mr. Farook’s arguing. Instead Peter’s eyes were trained on Barbara Gordon who had just left McDonalds carrying a plastic bag. Barbara waved at Peter and Peter waved back, grinning. Peter felt indestructible. He had just asked a girl out and she said yes. Nothing else mattered in the world, not the Batman, not the Penguin, not even the Joker.

…

At 10 P.M the Batmobile pulled up at Claridge’s manor.

Batman and Robin appeared, being welcomed by Gordon.

“Guns down boys,” Gordon said. “They’re here to help.”

Hesitantly, the rest of Gordon’s team put down their weapons.

“Robin,” Batman said. “Check the camera footage and cross reference it with the database I gave you with Claridge’s workers.”

“Ok boss,” Robin said, grinning at one of the officers who trained his gun on Robin as he went inside the manor.

“Gordon, I need a briefing,” Batman said.

“Claridge’s been on lockdown the moment the clown made his announcement,” Gordon said. “All his workers were sent out and I personally greeted anyone who decided to pay Claridge a visit.”

“What about finger prints?” Batman asked. “Did you cross-reference them with the database I sent you?”

“The boys scoured the entire mansion, checking each and everything,” Gordon said. “We checked and double checked the fingerprints and they all matched.”

Batman nodded. He entered the mansion, all of the officers stationed inside glaring at him, others looking at him in awe.

“We have no idea what we’re dealing with,” Gordon said. “Bastard killed an entire radio station just to make an announcement.”

Batman nodded, pulling out a scanner from his belt and scanning the door for fingerprints. “I agree. This Joker character is a wild card.”

The scanner beeped green. “And I don’t like wild cards.”

Meanwhile Robin was whistling as he made his way to the camera room which unfortunately was blocked by Officer Montoya who had her arms crossed and a stern expression on her face.

Robin tried his most charming smile. “Hey Ms. Montoya…”

“No entry,” Montoya said. “Especially not to vigilantes like you.”

Ms. Montoya hated the Batman and the GCPD’s reliance on them. That naturally meant she hated Robin.

“Pretty please,” Robin said. “I’ll even beg. Just please let me in. The big guy will get angry if I don’t man the cameras.”

“So let him,” Montoya said. “I can’t have vigilantes like you slowing down our investigation.”

“Don’t make me use force,” Robin said.

Montoya scoffed and got up in a fighting stance. “Please, I’ve been training to be a cop for four years. What training do _you_ have?”

Within seconds Montoya was on the ground, Robin was twirling the key to the camera room in his hand and whistling. “Your fighting’s really predictable Ms. Montoya. Still needs some work.”

As Robin cross referenced Claridge’s workers with the one’s on the database, Batman was being tailed by the man himself who followed behind him like a puppy.

“This is blasphemous,” Claridge said. “Blasphemous I tell you! Mr. Wayne is not allowed to come inside but this _freak_ is.”

“This freak is here to help with the investigation,” Gordon said, sighing. He couldn’t wait to get home, to kiss his wife and hug his daughter. Dealing with this man for more than twelve hours was starting to wear him out. He regretted not taking his aspirin with him.

Claridge laughed. “Has the GCPD become so incompetent that they rely on a _vigilante_ of all things. Back in my day…”

Gordon groaned. He wished he had Batman’s tolerance, ignoring Claridge as he scanned around the manor. He was getting too old for this.

The time was 11:30 and they were back in the living room.

“First the cops and now some madman in a bat costume,” Claridge said. “Dad would have a field day with this.”

Claridge laughed.

It was 11:35, Gordon paced around the manor. There was an air of unease amongst the cops. Nervous mumbling spread like a wildfire.

“If I knew I would be here for this long I would have called my ex-wife,” Claridge said. “She always was an easy woman. I bet she would have come running with her legs spread if it meant getting my money.”

Claridge laughed.

It was 11:40. One of the cops went up to Batman and started making jokes about him. Batman snarled and the guy shut up.

“Money, money, money,” Claridge said. “It’s what they all want. I bet that Joker guy wouldn’t have threatened to kill me if I payed him a million dollars. It’s too late now.”

Claridge laughed.

It was 11:45 when Batman got a radio call from Robin.

“Yes, Robin,” Batman said.

“You might want to see this Bruce.”

The screen on his gauntlet lit up. On it, Bruce saw a video of a doctor kneeled over by Claridge, injecting something. The footage was timed 8 A.M, two hours before the Joker’s radio announcement. There was nothing unusual about the footage. Claridge had a long history with diabetes so it would make sense for him to have medical assistance.

What didn’t make sense was the grin that he flashed at the camera.

The world around him slowed. Batman tackled Claridge to the ground. Guns were suddenly trained on him.

It was 11:55 and the Batman was surrounded by a ring of guns.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Claridge said. “Get this freak of me.”

“Exactly, Batman,” Gordon said. “What _is_ the meaning of this?”

“Claridge was poisoned by the Joker this morning,” Batman said. “If we don’t get it out of him, he may die.”

“What evidence do you have?”

Robin rushed to the scene.

“Robin, show them the footage.”

The officers gathered around Robin as the clock struck 11:58.

“So, you’re telling me the GCPD can’t control this freak,” Claridge said. “This idiot dressed in a bat costume.”

Claridge laughed.

“A fucking bat costume.”

Claridge laughed and laughed. He laughed till he started to wheeze.

The cops turned to Claridge. Batman got on top of him as Claridge started to laugh so much he started to choke. His face started twisting, started contorting into a giant grin.

“Call the paramedics,” Gordon shouted. “Get someone over here to help.”

Batman and Robin tried resuscitating Claridge. Batman pressing his palms to Claridge’s fat mound of a stomach and Robin holding him still as he rolled on the floor laughing. He laughed and laugh. Laughing so much, blood started running from his mouth.

“We got Ramirez,” Gordon said. “Will Claridge be okay?”

Batman shook his head. Henry Claridge’s body was still, his body pale and a huge unnatural grin spread across his face.

It was 12:00 A.M and Henry Claridge was dead.

…

Peter hoped that the two pillows he put underneath his blankets would be enough to fool Aunt May. Just to be careful, Peter locked his room door.

The tracker Peter put underneath Skinner’s truck was working. The red dot on the app showed that Skinner was turning into the warehouse district of Gotham, close by to where Peter caught the bastard who killed Ben. Peter put on his hoodie. Just in case the rest of Penguin’s thugs were around and alerted the Penguin, he figured it’d be best not to change into his Spider-Man outfit now. He stuffed his outfit in his bag right next to his binoculars and the burgers he ordered from McDonalds which were stuffed away in a plastic bag. Peter figured he needed a snack for the road.

Peter opened the window and started swinging, his spider sense buzzing slightly. Peter figured it was just because he was nervous but if he had listened to it, he’d have noticed Barbara Gordon following him around on a bike.

His first stop was Chad’s house. Chad had always loved Big Mac’s. Out of all the foods he proposed was a part of some elaborate government conspiracy, the Big Mac was the only exclusion. Peter figured he needed it. Especially after the incident at the radio station. Peter saw Chad through the passageway, sitting on his couch, a vacant expression on his face. Peter tapped his window and left the burger there with a note.

Chad’s attention was focused on the wall. The emptiness gnawing at his stomach. She’d always come home at this time, smiling at him, listening to his dumb conspiracies and stories from work. She’d make them some stew and they’d sit watching some dumb soap opera on Netflix. Chad just couldn’t believe she was gone. Just like that. He stared at the door hoping she’d come there and smile and tell him it was alright and that it was all fake news like everything was. But she didn’t come, she never came and Chad was left sitting on the couch, alone and empty.

That’s when he heard someone tapping at his window. Chad didn’t know what made him move from his couch, he figured sitting and staring at the wall wouldn’t get him anywhere. He was dumbfounded when he saw a McDonalds paper bag and a note on the side.

_I know what it’s like to lose someone. Stay strong, you’ll be alright soon._

_Your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man._

Chad didn’t know why but tears started streaming down his face. The message hit him in the gut. Spider-Man was right, he did lose someone. Sarah was gone and was never coming back but that didn’t mean he should spend the rest of his life staring at walls. Sarah would want him to live on. So, he took the burger, put it in the microwave and switched it on. Sarah always loved big macs.

…

At 6 P.M, Peter made it to the warehouse. Just in time to see Skinner’s truck turn into one of the warehouses. Peter crawled up the warehouse opposite, being careful not to be seen. Peter figured he had enough time so he pulled out the cheeseburger and started to eat it.

Halfway through his cheeseburger there was a new development. A man wearing a green coat and pilot mask appeared with a diamond shaped metallic object strapped to his back that looked like a weapon. From what Peter could see through his binoculars the man was here to make a deal and stay anonymous judging by the mask which covered his entire face. Peter decided to change into his costume now. If he could bag the Penguin and one of his clients, that would mean that hopefully more people would respect him.

Peter started getting into his costume, putting the burger back in its carboard box.

“I’ll finish you later,” he said.

Peter checked his web-shooters and cursed. They were almost out of juice and like an idiot, Peter forgot to bring spares. He hoped that he wouldn’t be needing it. The Penguin was talking to the man in the pilot mask. They were still standing outside the warehouse, the Penguin rubbing his hands like a fly.

Before Peter put on his mask he checked again with the binoculars. Penguin and the man with the pilot mask had disappeared.

Peter’s spider sense started buzzing wildly, he felt the wind dancing behind his back.

Peter heard a screech of metal. He put down his mask as a large shadow was cast on him. Looking upwards he saw a man with metal wings, the sharp edges of the wings glinting in the sunlight almost giving the man an angel-like glow. The man descended downwards to face Spider-Man, the flaps of his wings causing the wind to dance around him.

“Guess I won’t be finishing my burger then,” Spider-Man said.

The Vulture dived at Peter and the battle begun.

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 8

There was the crackling of static and a familiar jovial voice ringed through the hallways of Claridge’s mansion.

“Is this thing on?” Joker said, poking a mic attached to his collar. “Tell me… um… Hal. Is this thing on?”

There was a nervous whimper as the camera shook up and down.

“Robin trace that broadcast,” Batman growled. “Quickly.”

On the TV screen was a sharp powdered face with a blood red green and vivid green hair. The Joker wore a purple trench coat, green waistcoat, a bright red tie and a blue shirt. Next to him, with a bullet in the centre of her head was a woman dressed in bright red, the Joker’s eager footsteps causing droplets of her blood to splash on the camera.

The camera shook like an earthquake until a revolver was pointed at it.

“Steady now,” Joker said. “You’ve got to capture all this goodness. You’ve got to get a good shot.”

The Joker pulled the hammer of his revolver with a grin. The camera steadied itself, focusing on the wide grin of the Joker.

“Good evening,” Joker said. “Or should I say morning? Good mevening people of Gotham City. In a few hours Henry Claridge will be declared dead.” The Joker sighed. “I ruined the surprise, didn’t I?”

“Amusement Mile,” Robin said.

Batman stormed off, Robin trailing behind, Gordon calling after both of them.

“Now…”

The cameraman burst into tears. The camera was limp on the floor showing the wide-open eyes of the reporter and the bloody hole in her forehead.

“Now, now Hal,” the Joker said in an almost soothing, mother like voice. “You can’t just leave the camera hanging like that. What type of cameraman are you?” He grabbed the man’s hands causing him to let out a whimper. “Steady now, the people of Gotham need to know who’s up next. Their anxiety is supposed to be eased. Isn’t that what news reporters do best?”

The Batmobile blazed through the streets of Gotham, its tires screeching against the asphalt road as it made its way to Amusement Mile.

The camera focused on the Joker’s ghoulish grin. “The next on my list is…” The Joker pulled out a wad of paper that he unwound, rolls of paper spilled on the floor and snaked across the floor.

“Hmm,” Joker said, running his purple gloved fingers across the list. “We have the president, Wilson, Brock… Aha.”

The Joker tapped the middle of the paper. “Jay Wilde. Tomorrow at 12 P.M, Jay Wilde is going to bite the bullet. This time it’s going to be a little up close and personal so stay tuned Gotham. Till next time, over and out!”

There was a gunshot. The camera swirled like a vortex resting on a limp hand, the crack lens trained on a pair of shiny shoes clumping on the food.

The Batmobile screeched to a halt in front of a Gotham News Truck. Batman ejected out of the Batmobile, the extra mobility from the boost, eyes darting around for any sign of the Joker. He rolled as he landed on the pavement. The Joker was nowhere to be seen. Batman stood in front of the GCPD news truck and began his investigation. The driver had been shot first, his body leaning against the door, the blood from the bullet hole in his skull staining the blue surface of the truck. The reporter, a Ms. Ritchie an up and comer Batman ran into a few times went out to investigate but was shot right before she could even open the door. The camera man was left alive to film the Joker’s sick broadcast. After it was done, he was promptly dealt with.

The Joker knew there would be a news broadcast down at Amusement Mile, no way he could have intercepted this truck by chance. That suggested a familiarity with the area or at least access to information. Robin was soon by Batman’s side.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

The GCPD sirens wailed, the red and blue light danced around the news truck. Commissioner Gordon walked up to Batman.

“What did you find out?” Gordon asked looking at the truck, hands on his hips.

“The victims are Anne Ritchie and her crew,” Batman said.

“Did you just say Anne Ritchie?” Gordon asked.

“Do you know her?”

“She once interviewed the GCPD,” Gordon said. “One of the few reporters out there to speak about the corruption from both Gotham’s leaders and the police force. She was doing research about poverty and how Gotham doesn’t have the necessary facilities to deal with the mentally ill in Gotham for a documentary series.”

And it made sense. Amusement Mile, once a colourful destination filled with life. Its Amusement Park being the pride and joy of Gotham before the death of the Waynes. Gotham City fell into a depression after that and Amusement Mile was hit the hardest.

Robin was silent, which was very uncharacteristic for the Boy Wonder. Batman clenched his fist.

“He’s a monster Jim.”

“You think I don’t know that,” Gordon said. “Everyday something new plagues us. Everyday it’s a new monster and everyday somebody god damn dies.”

The ambulance sirens wailed as the bodies were placed on stretchers, their bodies were covered with a white blanket as they were placed in ambulances.

“I won’t rest until he’s behind bars,” Batman said. “I won’t rest till he is brought to justice.”

Gordon pulled out a cigarette. “Let’s hope so, friend.”

He puffed out the smoke after he took a swig as the Batmobile was just a speck in the distance.

“Let’s hope so.”

…

“So, what do they call you?” Spider-Man asked. He needed to stall. He couldn’t use his webs since he was almost out. To make matters worse, a fleet of trucks were leaving the Penguin’s warehouse and there was no time to check if they were still being tracked.

The man with wings dived as Spider-Man leaped over him. As he leapt, he made a note of the structure of the wings. It had a motor that spewed out flames for an extra boost but what caught Spider-Man’s attention was the electric conduit running through the wings. Spider-Man noticed an electric battery sloppily hidden behind a metal cover that it was hard not to notice. Spider-Man also noticed red wires poking out of the sleek metal surface of the wings.

“Do they call you Eagle?” Spider-Man as Eagle swerved around to face him. Eagle crashed through the warehouse Spider-Man was standing on prompting Spider-Man to leap to the other warehouse. The Penguin’s trucks were but a speck in the distance. Spider-Man desperately wanted to pull out his phone but Eagle burst out of the roof of the warehouse he had reduced to shrapnel. Splinters falling from his jumpsuit.

“Nah that sounds too American,” Spider-Man said. “And I don’t see red and white anywhere on your wings.”

The man with wings dived for Spider-Man again but Spider-Man dropped as the man crashed into another warehouse.

Spider-Man jumped back up as the man regained his bearings and faced Spider-Man one more time.

“What about Falcon?” Spider-Man asked.

Falcon didn’t dive this time. Instead he put on a pair of black steel claws. The claws hissed as they tightened around Falcon’s hands, sticking to his fingers like a pair of rubber gloves.

Falcon dived but this time he stopped in front of Spider-Man and started swiping. Spider-Man dodged that without a sweat but then Falcon turned his body. His wing cut through the air as Spider-Man jumped over it.

“I have a feeling that’s already…”

Spider-Man had no time to finish his sentence as Falcon flew upwards in the air like a bullet, grabbing him and diving through various warehouses, crashing through them like a missile.

Falcon tossed Spider-Man as plunged through a warehouse like a comet, covering his fall by crossing his arms. He landed on the floor, rolling and crashing into a dozen wooden crates.

“… Taken,” Spider-Man groaned. Spider-Man heard the whirring of metal wings. Spider-Man stretched his muscles, hearing them crack.

“This is going to hurt in the morning,” Spider-Man said. Through the Spider-Man shaped hole in the roof he could see the Man circling around the warehouse like a… like a… Spider-Man groaned. He was too tired to think. He got up, dust and wooden splinters cascading down his body and sprang up the hole, stumbling a little as he made it to the roof.

The man appeared in front of him, flapping his wings.

“How about Big Bird?” Spider-Man asked. “Yeah, Big Bird suits you.”

Spider-Man’s head started buzzing. He took up a defensive pose as Big Bird’s wings started to glow blue.

“Why are your wings glowing, Big Bird?” Spider-Man asked. “Is it going to show me the letter of the day?”

The sharp edges at the edge of the wings started rattling. First it was rattled like a wind chime, then it started rattling like an earthquake. His Spider-Sense was really starting to act up.

“You looking for a name, kid?” Big Bird said, his voiced muffled by his mask. “Call me Vulture.”

The blue glow stopped as the sharp edges of his wings started flying towards Spider-Man. Spider-Man quickly attached a web to one of the crates in the warehouse and yanked it up, the flying daggers reducing it to nothing. Spider-Man dodged them, the daggers whizzing past him like bullets but one of them whizzed past his left arm, the other his right leg as a sharp pain shot through those parts of his body.

The Vulture’s wings glowed as those daggers returned and attached themselves to his wing.

“How do you like my feathers, kid?”

Spider-Man placed his right palm over his left bicep as blood covered his gloves.

“That is…” Spider-Man said, falling on one knee thanks to the bleeding of his right leg. “A really stupid name.”

The Vulture chuckled. “You have a big mouth, don’t you?”

“Some people say I don’t know when to shut up.”

Vulture laughed. “Oh, don’t worry. My feathers will do it for you.”

Spider-Man tried to leap but the pain in his leg was unbearable, it flared up whenever he tried to move.

But he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He had a date with Barbara. Who’d look after Aunt May? All these questions floated through his mind as he stared at the Vulture who he felt was sneering behind that mask. His spider sense was screaming, begging him to move. But he couldn’t move. The feathers cut deep.

His brain was working fast, trying to formulate a way to get out of here. Desperate to keep him alive but his body refused. There was nothing to attach his web to except the Vulture. And sure, Peter could use his webs to propel himself forward but his body was in too much pain to comply.

And as the blue glow disappeared, Peter heard a bike roaring in the distance.

There was a flash of yellow and a muffled yelp as the Vulture’s feathers veered violently of course.

There was a rush of air as Spider-Man plummeted down the hole in the warehouse roof, crashing through wooden crates as feathers tore through the space that Spider-Man was supposed to be.

Spider-Man managed to regain his composure fast enough to see a pair of gorgeous green eyes staring straight at his. He was awestruck by how beautiful they were and how familiar they seemed to be. For a second, for one powerful second that felt like an hour they stared at each other. Batgirl smiled.

“Hi,” Batgirl said before Spider-Man pushed her off.

…

The lights of the Batcave flared as the Batmobile navigated the craggy hallways. The Batmobile parked on its designated platform and Batman and Robin got out.

Bruce Wayne removed his mask. Dick Grayson cast a solemn stare at the cave walls, thinking about the death he had just seen.

He followed behind Bruce, the lights following behind him. Bruce removed his cowl, hanging it on one of the suits of armour he was working on. Meanwhile Dick removed his Robin suit and put it on his specially designated mannequin, unclipping his cape and hanging it on the armour.

“Gets really stuffy,” he mumbled.

“Computer,” Bruce said. “Bring up information you can on Jay Wilde and Henry Claridge.”

“Affirmative,” droned the female voice of the Computer.

Dick slumped down on a chair, staring at the floor, his fingers tapping against his chair. In fact, Dick Grayson was so concerned with the floor that he didn’t eve notice the small glance Bruce was giving him.

“And tell Alfred to bring in dinner,” Bruce said. “I’m starving.”

“Very well.”

There was a silence, only broken by the occasional screeching of Bats and water dripping from the stalactites of the cave. Bruce was typing on the Batcomputer when the sound of footsteps echoed through the cave.

“Dinner, as requested Master Bruce,” said the calm voice of the Wayne family’s Butler. He opened the plate and the smell of chicken soup wafted through the air causing Dick’s stomach to grumble. “For you and Master Dick.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said, barely touching his food. His eyes trained on the computer. Alfred dragged a table over to Dick and placed his platter on it.

“Thanks Al,” Dick said. His stomach was grumbling but Dick didn’t feel like eating. The faces of Claridge, Ms. Ritchie and the cameraman flashed through his mind, killing his appetite.

“You seem downtrodden Master Dick,” Alfred said. “Is anything the matter?”

“Yes, there is a problem,” Dick said.

“Please, go on.”

“It’s the fact that you call me Master Dick despite the fact I keep telling you not to,” Dick said.

“Well I do find calling you that rather amusing,” Alfred said.

Dick chuckled and then sighed.

“It’s just, I’m worried Al.”

“About whom?” Alfred said. “Is it Master Bruce?”

Dick shook his head. “No, Bruce can take on a whole army…”

“Don’t give him ideas,” Alfred said.

Dick smirked. “No reason for me to worry about him.” Dick sighed. “No, it’s Barbs and Pete who I’m worried about.”

“What about them?”

“The Joker,” Dick said. “He’s… he’s a monster. And I’ve seen monsters, hell one of them even tried to kill me. But the Joker, he’s a different kind of monster. And knowing Barbs and Pete and how stubborn they are, they’re the types of people who’ll go after him and do whatever it takes to put him behind bars. And I’m worried Al. I’m worried that they’ll be in over their heads and get themselves killed and I don’t… I don’t want to lose them.”

“Do you trust them, Master Dick?” Alfred asked.

“What do you mean? Of course, I trust them.”

“If you trusted them, you’d know what they’re capable of,” Alfred said. “Ms. Gordon was trained right here, underneath this very manor by both you and Master Wayne alongside her own martial arts training. Meanwhile, Mr. Parker from what I’ve heard was bitten by a radioactive spider that gave him powers. They’re more than capable of handling themselves.”

“I know… but…”

“The way I see it, Master Richard is that you don’t believe in their capabilities,” Alfred said.

“I do… I mean…” Dick tried to interject but couldn’t find the words.

“The only solution I can propose, Master Richard,” Alfred said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Is that you have to take a leap of faith. Trust in your friend’s capabilities because you and I both know they’re more than capable of handling themselves.”

Dick sighed. “You’re right.”

“Besides if there’s anybody you should be worrying about it’s me,” Alfred said. “You don’t know how many times I’ve reached breaking point looking after you two.”

Dick laughed. “I trust you Al.”

“Trust is all well and good,” Alfred said. “But we’ll see how well your trust holds when you wake up with a running stomach in the middle of the night.”

Dick smirked. His stomach was starting to grumble again. He was about to dig into the soup but told the Batcomputer to run a quick scan for traces of laxatives before he dug in.

There was another silence. Dick almost dozed off before hearing Bruce call for him.

Dick yawned and stretched, taking his place at Bruce’s right side at the Batcomputer as was usual during investigations. “What’s up?”

“What do you know about the Red Hood?” Bruce asked.

“Besides that murder case at Gotham U?” Dick said, rubbing his eyes. “Not much.”

“Apparently Jay Wilde and Henry Claridge were part of the Board of Directors for Ace Chemicals but they stepped down 5 years ago,” Bruce said. A newspaper clipping of the Gotham Gazette flashed on screen, on the article it said: Henry Claridge and Jay Wilde step down after recent incident at factory.

The article read: _Henry Claridge and Jay Wilde, prominent heads of Ace Chemicals step down after a recent incident where a man fell into one of their chemical vats_. The newspaper article further elaborated on Ace Chemicals safety procedures and how many workers went home with burns or chemical related injuries.

Bruce clicked and another newspaper clipping was put on screen. This time about shootings at Ace Chemicals.

_On April 24 th, gunfire was reported in the Ace Chemicals chemical vat at 6 P.M. Luckily, nobody was hurt but sources report a mysterious man in a red hood was seen falling into a vat of chemicals. _

The newspaper clipping showed a hazy image of a well-dressed man with a red cape clutching something and falling into a vat of chemicals. His face was covered by a weird red cylinder that looked like a half a capsule. The newspaper went on to call him the Red Hood.

“So, you’re saying Joker is this Red Hood guy?” Dick said. “But didn’t we already catch him at that University. You remember, the janitor guy?”

“Earl Benson was an impersonator,” Bruce said. And scum. Earl Benson lead a series of racially and sexually motivated murders on the students of Gotham U because he wasn’t accepted into the university due to his low grades. It was thanks to both Bruce and Dick that he was put behind bars. The Batman had to take up a job teaching criminology so that he could gain access to the university much to Dick’s amusement. Both Alfred and Dick wouldn’t let it go for months. “The real Red Hood was never caught or that’s what we were led to believe. A few days after Red Hood fell into the chemical vat, this happened.”

**_ Mass murder shocks Gotham _ **

_Ace Chemicals employees were found massacred at 2:30 P.M today. The murderer was found to be Jack Napier AKA The Red Hood. Napier was found at the scene of the crime alive and confessed to the murders. While confessing, Napier was seen laughing. The bodies were torn to shreds and ripped apart, many of them unrecognizable. Many of the victim’s family are expressing disdain at the fact that Napier was sentenced into Arkham Asylum for life._

There was an image of a pale faced man with wiry hair and an eerie grin. His cheeks were stretched out and his body was thin and mangled.

“This and the case files were covered up,” Bruce said. “I can’t find this case anywhere in the Gotham databases. After these incidents, Wilde and Claridge resigned.”

“So what?” Dick said. “These are revenge killings.”

“Yes,” Bruce said, stroking his chin. “But a lot of it doesn’t make sense. How can one-man tear through 20 workers like they’re nothing? Evidence shows that they were ripped apart limb by limb. Some of their bodies were even sliced in half.”

Like the bodies in the freighter, Bruce thought.

“What’s more why were Ace Chemicals so adamant to cover up this case?” Bruce said. “What are they trying to hide?”

Dick shrugged. “What do you propose we do? Investigate Ace? See what they’re up to?”

“No,” Bruce said. “There’s too many questions, too many pieces of the puzzle missing.”

Who ordered the Vibranium Weapons? If Bruce could find that out then one of the mysteries would be solved. Who in Gotham needed weapons of such high calibre? It was obvious Joker stole the weapons to the Penguin who was then responsible for distribution but why? Why did the Joker sell those weapons especially since they were so valuable? Why would a criminal mastermind sell weapons of such high value?

All these questions were spinning around Bruce’s head and they could be easily answered by the Penguin. But there was no information, no clue as to the Penguin’s whereabouts.

Bruce slammed his fist against the desktop.

“Bruce, you okay?” Dick asked.

Bruce was silent. Dick noticed that Bruce’s dinner was still untouched. Bruce got up from his desk, ignoring Dick and storming off. Bruce was about to leave the Batcave when the Batcomputer made an announcement.

“Barbara Gordon is requesting a call.”

“Put her through,” Bruce said.

On his gauntlet, a holographic image of Barbara wearing her Batgirl costume flashed in front of Bruce’s eyes.

“You’re not going to believe this Bruce,” Barbara said, gasping to catch her breath. “But… I found the Penguin.”

…

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Spider-Man said struggling to get up and pulling out his phone from his bag (which was, much to Peter’s surprise, miraculously unharmed) and checking his GPS. Unfortunately, Penguin and crew had left Skinner’s truck behind so the red dot was beeping at the warehouse district.

“Excuse me, I just saved your life,” Batgirl said, hands on her hips. “And please don’t tell me it’s too dangerous. I’ve heard that a thousand times already.”

“You shouldn’t be here because you should be following the Penguin,” Spider-Man snapped. “Not saving my life.”

“How stupid do you think I am?” Batgirl said, jabbing a finger on Spider-Man’s chest. “You really think I’d let him get away like that? I put a tracker on his truck.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Batgirl said, a smug grin on her face.

“But you still shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?”

“It’s too dangerous.”

Batgirl rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious,” Spider-Man said. “That guy’s wings can shoot these sharp ass pieces of metal. I barely made it out alive even with my spider-sense.”

Spider-Man was about to collapse but Batgirl lifted him up.

“If the person with superpowers can’t avoid those things,” Spider-Man said. “What do you think will happen to Batman’s girlfriend?”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” Batgirl snapped.

Spider-Man noticed that some of the Vulture’s feathers were stuck against the warehouse floor. They weren’t moving, at least not yet.

“What did you do to him?” Spider-Man asked.

“I kicked him against the face.”

Spider-Man sighed. “What _else_ did you do to him?”

“I threw a few disruptors on his wings,” Batgirl said.

“What are those?”

“They’re a type of grenade that lets out an electric charge to disable weapons,” Batgirl said. “I figured since Big Bird’s wings runs on electricity that they would work.”

“You were right.”

Spider-Man could feel his strength returning to his body. “You can let go of me now.”

“You sure?”

Spider-Man nodded. Batgirl let go of him, he stumbled a little prompting Batgirl to reach out her arms but Spider-Man shook his head. He rested his body against the wall, noticing the concern in Batgirl’s eyes.

“Look, I’ll be fine.” Though the deep breaths he was taking in between each word were not very convincing. “You get out of here. Track down Penguin and tell your Bat-friend about it.”

“But…”

Spider-Man held out a hand to stop her. “I’m telling you, it’s too dangerous. Look at how beat up I am. You think you’ll do any better?”

Batgirl wanted to argue but he was right. There was no way she could go toe to toe with a man that could take on a superhuman. Just then the Vulture’s feathers started to wobble.

“We don’t have time,” Spider-Man said. “Get the hell out of here, find the Penguin.”

“And what will you do?”

Spider-Man chuckled. “I’ll be the diversion. Real heroic, don’t you think?”

The feathers zipped out of the floor and cut through the roof.

“Your bike still alright?”

Batgirl nodded.

“Alright, let’s get out of here,” Spider-Man said, limping to the warehouse door.

“Wait,” Batgirl said.

“What?”

“Before you go,” she shuffled through her utility belt and pulled out some smoke pellets and a small circular device with a red light in the middle. “Smoke bombs and some disruptors, press the button on the side to turn them on.” Batgirl pointed at a small grey button on the right side of the disruptor. “In case you need them.”

Spider-Man took them and placed them in his bottle pockets. “I’ll keep them in mind.”

Batgirl stared at Spider-Man, at Peter’s eyes. She knew, behind that mask was a cute boy. A cute boy she might never see again. Deep down, she wanted to tell him, wanted to tell him who she was but she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t break Bruce’s trust like that.

“Good luck,” Batgirl said.

“I’ll need that,” Spider-Man said. “I don’t usually have the best luck.”

…

The Batman’s other sidekick burst through the door, rushing to her bike. The Vulture dived for her but was greeted by a punch to the face.

“It’s not her you want, Vultch,” the nuisance said. “It’s me.”

That punch hurt like hell. Spider-Man landed in front of him though much to the Vulture’s satisfaction, he was beat up. Blood was running down his arms and legs and breathing heavily. The poor kid wasn’t looking to hot.

The Vulture pressed a button on his left glove and his wings started glowing.

Spider-Man’s eyes widened. He turned to Batgirl who was inches away from her bike. “Get down!”

Vulture launched a volley of his feathers. They danced in the air, racing towards their target.

Spider-Man ran against the warehouse walls, diving towards the Bat’s sidekick. There was a sound of a door being torn from its hinges as the Spider-Man swung it in an arc, the feathers thudding against the frame.

The Vulture’s wings glowed again and the feathers retracted. There was a loud cracking noise and both Batgirl and Spider-Man were shrouded in a veil of smoke.

The Vulture growled in annoyance. But then he saw the Bat chick’s bike pierce through the smoke. Grinning, the Vulture flew after her only to be greeted by a door to the face.

“Eyes on me, Vultch,” Spider-Man said. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

Vulture ignored him and chased after Batgirl but before he could even begin to dive, he was pulled down by a violent force. Spider-Man’s webs pulled him to the ground, his wings scraping against the surface.

“Nuh-uh, Vultch,” Spider-Man said. “Hands off the goods.”

The Vulture growled. He regained his bearings, flying up and turning to face Spider-Man.

The girl could wait. Spider-Man had to die.

…

The Vulture dived, Spider-Man ducked and rolled.

“They call you the Vulture, right?” Spider-Man said. “Aren’t you supposed to feed on scraps?”

Counting the one he had just used, Spider-Man had eight smoke pellets and three disruptors. Not to mention he was almost out of web fluid. He had to use his resources carefully.

The Vulture’s wings started to glow. The feathers zoomed towards Spider-Man. Spider-Man was prepared to dodge but this time the Vulture did something different. He dived.

“This thing goes against your whole M.O man,” Spider-Man said as he leaped over the Vulture. Twisting around the feathers, one of them slicing through his left shoulder. “You’re only supposed to be doing this after I’m dead.”

“You will be soon,” Vulture said, swerving in the air and diving again, his feathers hovering around him.

“Don’t think so,” Spider-Man said, he dropped a smoke pellet and made a run for it. Sprinting through the grey veil, avoiding the silver feathers. In the distance he heard the hum of Vulture’s wings as his feathers started to rattle. He felt a rush of air just as soon as Spider-Man burst out of the veil.

The Vulture stalked his prey as Spider-Man navigated through the maze of warehouses. Before the Vulture could dive, Spider-Man dived into one of the nearest warehouses. When the Vulture let loose a volley of feathers, Spider-Man attached his webs to one of them and tossed them back, stopping Vulture mid-dive.

It was starting to get really annoying.

“Catch me if you can Big Bird,” Spider-Man said as the Vulture dived. Before he could even grab a hold of him, Spider-Man tossed a smoke pellet and found himself in one of the warehouses.

Five left, Peter thought.

The Vulture crashed through the warehouse, Spider-Man managed to dodge his dive at the last second but the Vulture turned around and launched a volley of feathers.

Spider-Man burst through the wall, the feathers zooming towards him. Spider-Man managed to toss some boxes that stopped some of the feathers but one of them swept past his right leg causing Spider-Man to stumble. The Vulture dived again but before he could latch on to Spider-Man he was greeted by smoke.

Four.

Vulture turned. Spider-Man was not looking so good. Blood was running down his legs and his arms. One of the feathers had even managed to scrape his side. Spider-Man was starting to let out large breaths.

The Vulture launched himself at him, swiping with his claws. He swiped at smoke.

Three.

Spider-Man had to get out of the Vulture’s line of sight. Find a place to hide, regain his bearings. But since the bastard could fly it was starting to make it really, really difficult.

“C’mon Big Bird can’t you take a hint?” Spider-Man said. “I don’t want to know the number of the day, man.”

The Vulture took a sharp turn, Spider-Man backflipped over him noticing that his wings were glowing blue again. Feathers twirled in the air as Spider-Man loosened his body to avoid them, landing on the ground on his knees.

“I can’t catch a break, can I?” Spider-Man said as the Vulture spun around. Spider-Man tossed another smoke bomb.

Two.

Spider-Man jumped to the roof of one of the warehouses as the Vulture waited for the smoke to clear.

The Vulture shot a glare up at Spider-Man and Spider-Man thought, even though he had a mask on, that if looks could kill he’d be dead by now. The Vulture lunged… at smoke.

One.

The Vulture was high up in the air and Spider-Man was nowhere to be found.

…

He didn’t have time. Spider-Man still had the disruptors but he was running out of resources. He needed to come up with something, fast.

He looked around the warehouse, noticing empty crates, tire marks and… someone lying on the floor knocked out.

Spider-Man ran to the body. “Hey, hey. Are you alright?” His feet splashed over something. “You need to get out of here it’s not…”

Spider-Man turned the body over only to be greeted by the wide-open eyes of Skinner, a hole cutting right through his forehead.

“Jesus,” Spider-Man said, the body falling from his hands. He knew the Penguin was a maniac but he didn’t think he would kill one of his own men. He looked up and saw Skinner’s truck, doors wide open, the engine cover sticking out like an open mouth and Spider-Man knew. Penguin and his goons were looking for a tracker, something, anything to show that Skinner wasn’t followed. When they couldn’t find the tracker, Penguin shot Skinner believing it was him that lead Spider-Man to the Penguin’s weapon cache.

Skinner may have been an asshole, a criminal but he didn’t deserve to die. And because Spider-Man thought that he was smart by deciding to track down the Penguin, Skinner’s death was on him.

Great, Peter thought. Just fucking great. Someone else died because of his recklessness and carelessness. First Ben, now Skinner. Sure, Skinner wasn’t innocent but that didn’t mean he deserved to die.

The guilt started up again, hurting his heart, making his legs feel like lead. Who else was going to die next? Aunt May, Barbara, Dick Grayson? He wouldn’t be surprised cause whenever Peter decided to do something, it always led to someone dying. Why couldn’t the spider have bitten someone else? If it wasn’t for that stupid fucking spider, he wouldn’t have to deal with this. Nobody would have had to die by his hands.

At that moment, Spider-Man heard the sounds of crashing. Peter would deal with this later, right now he had to get out of here alive. He looked around, his eyes darting to the boxes, to the door and then finally the truck.

And a plan started to form in his head.

…

The Vulture heard the sound of something being dragged across the floor and dived.

He crashed through another empty warehouse. Except this time, it wasn’t empty. No, instead what he saw was the dead body of one of Penguin’s goons.

Stupid Spider-Man. If it wasn’t for him Vulture could have gotten his weapons but no, the red suited idiot had to interfere.

“Hey, Big Bird!”

Speak of the Devil. Vulture turned his head to see the web-head staring at him, straining under the weight of…

Was that a truck?

“Catch,” Spider-Man said, tossing the truck straight at him. The Vulture tore through the truck like it was nothing, slicing it into two clean halves, only to be greeted by smoke.

“Did you miss me?”

Spider-Man leaped up from behind one of the bonnets of the truck, latching on to his wings.

The Vulture spun causing the Spider to lose his grip and plummet to the ground.

As he was falling the Vulture’s wings started to glow a bright blue. His feathers started to rattle.

Grinning underneath the mask, Peter Parker said, “Gotcha.”

Vulture heard a beeping noise. Suddenly his wings gave out. He started plummeting to the ground, crashing into one of the warehouses. His feather clattered on the floor like a bunch of useless needles.

Meanwhile, Spider-Man landed on the ground on his feet, almost tripping over. He wanted to see just who the Vulture was beneath that mask but he heard sirens wailing in the distance. He figured the cops would deal with him and started limping back to his apartment. He looked up at the starry skies covered by the usual Gotham fog and sighed.

This was one hell of a day.

…

Penguin’s screeched to a halt in front of a host of run-down buildings by the sea. Ship horns blared in the distance and the Gotham monorail creaked around the island. The bright lights of Gotham were reflected in the calm waves of the sea. In the middle of these multicoloured dots was a big blue W distorted by the ups and down of the moving waves.

Cobblepot Fisheries not a pleasant place. A dilapidated set of buildings that once was the booming economic centre of Gotham, reduced to a place for Penguin’s father and his connections to smuggle drugs once the Wayne’s stole their fortune.

Penguin tapped his umbrella against the pavement. “Hurry it up boys. We ain’t got all day.

Crates upon crates of Vibranium weaponry was being hauled out of the trucks. Some of them being carried by coughing forklifts, others by four to five of Penguin’s toughest goons.

Not once did the Penguin suspect hiding in the shadows. The Batgirl crouched against the roof of one of the old warehouses, binoculars in hand. Watching.

…

Peter had to drag himself up the stairs to his apartment. His body was battered and begging him to sleep. He was trying to fight the urge to just curl up on one of the stairs and just sleep. 

His mind wandered, to Barbara, to Dick Grayson, to Bruce Wayne, to Uncle Ben before finally settling on Skinner. Skinner’s death was his fault, if only he had been careful. If only he hadn’t decided to track him Skinner would be alive. The guilt tugged at his heart, slowing him down even more. Flashes of Skinner’s glassy eyes and bloodied face raced through his mind. Finally, Peter made it to his apartment door. He opened the apartment door, having to find the strength to pull it open. He was ready to plop into bed and just rest. That was all he wanted.

But life didn’t give Peter what he wanted. Life never gave Peter what he wanted.

Standing at the doorway, arms crossed and eyes as hard as stone was his Aunt May. And boy was she pissed.

_To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 9

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Aunt May asked. “Pillows underneath your blanket, Peter. Pillows? I’ve raised you for 12 years Peter and just like your father and uncle I know you don’t take naps in the afternoon.”

They were inside the apartment, Aunt May practically forcing him inside so that they don’t make noise and wake up the other tenants.

“Maybe today was different.”

Aunt May scoffed. “Different? Please, I’ve been married to a Parker long enough to know how stubborn you all are.”

Aunt May crossed her arms. “Where have you been?”

“Studying.”

“Till 10 PM?”

“Like you said us Parkers are stubborn.”

“Peter Parker, there’s a reason there’s a curfew and…”

Aunt May noticed the blood running down Peter’s shoulders and her expression softened.

“Peter are you okay?”

Peter turned away from her eyes. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Get on the sofa.”

“I said I’m fi…”

“I said get on the sofa, Peter,” Aunt May interrupted, her voice firm. “You’re bleeding.”

Peter sighed and dragged himself to the sofa, his hip screaming in pain. He placed a hand on it and saw that he was in fact bleeding. Peter lay down on the sofa his bag on the coffee table as Aunt May rushed toward him carrying a First Aid Kit and some bandages.

Aunt May commanded Peter to remove his shirt. Peter obliged and put his shirt on the table.

“When did you get so muscular?” May mumbled, dousing a cotton swab with anti-septic. It stung, like someone was poking his body with a flaming hot stick but after the septic settled, Peter found it rather soothing.

“What happened?” May asked.

“Nothing.”

Peter couldn’t see May rolling her eyes but he knew she was doing that right now. “This doesn’t look like nothing.”

Peter figured lying to her wouldn’t be the best idea. “I got into a fight.”

May pressed the cotton bud so deep into Peter’s wound, he cringed, almost ripping the sofa covers.

“That hurts,” Peter mumbled. Aunt May loosened her grip but Peter could sense she was still angry.

“What kind of a fight?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“You’re my nephew, Peter,” Aunt May said. “As far as I’m concerned it is my business.”

“Some guy tried to mug me,” Peter lied. “With a knife. I managed to fight him off.”

“Not very well, it seems.”

With a delicate hand, Aunt May wrapped bandages around Peter’s wounds. She also put some band-aid on the wound on his shin.

After she bandaged his wounds, Peter got up and stretched. The bandages felt tight, making his movements feel stiff. It didn’t help that the bandages also made his body feel itchy. Very, very itchy. He was tired and ready to sleep but Aunt May wasn’t having it.

“So, Peter, you have anything to say for yourself.”

“I want to go sleep,” Peter said.

Aunt May ignored him and went on. “You don’t respond to my calls and messages. You ignore curfew and you barge in like none of that matters.”

Peter was silent.

“To top it all off you come with scratches all over your body and don’t bother explaining yourself,” May shouted. “Do you know how dangerous it is? So many people were killed by that clown just this morning and yet you think it’s safe to run around town without a single care in the world?”

“I want to go sleep,” Peter said. “You should be in bed too.”

Aunt May scoffed. She laughed without humour. “Sleep? I should go sleep? When my nephew is out there in this godforsaken city? The same city that…” Aunt May’s words were caught in her throat. “That took my husband away from me.”

The guilt weighed on Peter’s heart, like it always did. A tiny, black spot that grew and grew until it completely took over making his chest tight and his throat feel like it was being clamped. Sometimes it would get so bad that his entire body would feel heavy, sometimes it would get so bad that he’d fall on his knees. It wasn’t the city that took away her husband, it was him. Him and that chip on his shoulder that let that bastard run away.

At the same time, Peter didn’t like being policed. He didn’t like being told that he should stay away from his friends. He didn’t like being told that he couldn’t get a job, that he had to be home at a certain time. He was not a kid anymore, goddammit.

Aunt May placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Peter turned and could see just how old she was getting. Wrinkles on her face, strands of white in her hair. She was starting to lose weight too, her clothes slightly baggy. But the thing that really made Peter’s heart churn, that made it hurt like hell was dark rings underneath her eyes. They were dark and heavy; she hadn’t been getting sleep for days.

“Look Peter,” May said. “I’m not your mother but please, please listen to me. You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep coming home late, you can’t keep getting into fights and you can’t keep going around with that Grayson boy. It’s too dangerous.”

The guilt was there but so was the anger. The anger that every teenager has at being told what to do. And Peter went on to say something he would regret.

“You’re right, Aunt May.”

Aunt May smiled and loosened her grip on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter turned to face her; fists clenched. For some reason, as determined as he felt he couldn’t bring himself to look at her eyes.

“You’re not my mother,” Peter said. “And you never will be.”

Peter didn’t meet her eyes as he limped to his room.

…

“They’re heavily armed,” Barbara explained, they were around a table in the Wayne Manor dining hall, leaning over pictures and blueprints Barbara had brought. It was early noon and neither of them had gotten any sleep. The smell of the tea Alfred was making was much too tempting to both Barbara and Dick. “The guards out front is armed to the teeth with automatic weapons, all of them ordered to shoot on sight. Thank god I was careful.”

The screen of the Batcomputer flashed with blueprints. “I managed to find some blueprints of the area,” Batgirl said. “If they’re correct the weapons are being stored in a vault in the main office.”

“How many guards are there?” Bruce asked.

“If I did my maths right… around 60,” Barbara said, she pointed to a picture she took of a man with a buzz cut and a tattoo on his neck. “I did some research on a few of them, turns out a lot of them are highly trained mercenaries.”

“And none of them spotted you?” Bruce asked.

Barbara smiled. “I was trained by the best.”

“As soon as the sun rose, a lot of the mercenaries left,” Barbara said, she had been staking out the Penguin’s hideout the entire night, noting patrol routes and taking stock of their weapons. She had to lie to her mum, telling her she was at a friend’s house. Meanwhile, dad was way too busy with the Joker case so he slept at the precinct. “The only ones that were active were Penguin’s usual goons.”

“They’re being careful,” Bruce said.

“If we’re going to go at night, we’re going to have to be careful too,” Batgirl said.

“We?” Bruce asked.

“Yes Bruce, we,” Barbara said. “There’s no way in hell you’ll be able to take all of them alone.”

Alfred came in, the smell of tea accompanying him. “Pardon the intrusion but your tea is ready.”

Alfred placed the cups on the table, careful to avoid the various images and maps spread across the table.

“Thanks a bunch Al,” Barbara said.

Alfred bowed and sauntered back to the kitchen.

“We need someone at Wilde’s mansion,” Bruce said. “We can’t let the Joker get his way.”

Barbara took a sip of her tea. God, it was so refreshing. “That’s true but we can’t let you die either.”

“I’ll do it,” Dick said, sipping his tea. “I’ll help Bruce out.”

“I can help out too,” Barbara said. “Dick can help at Wilde’s mansion.”

“No, it’s too dangerous,” Dick said.

“I can handle myself Dick!”

“Say that to the assholes carrying automatic weapons…”

Bruce raised a hand to silence them both. “Calm down, the both of you. Stop acting like children.”

He turned to Barbara. “Dick’s right.”

“What?” Barbara interrupted. “What the hell do you mean he’s right? And I can’t believe you’re taking his side Bruce. I trained under you, you of all people know what I’m capable off.”

Bruce crossed his arms. “I’m not trying to undermine you Barbara. I know you’re capable of handling yourself. But if I’m going to be working with someone, I’ll need someone with more experience. And Dick has been Robin for five years. You on the other hand have only been Batgirl for two.”

Bruce crossed his arms. “Now normally I’d send you and Dick to handle Cobblepot but Cobblepot has information I need. Information he needs a little _push_ to spill.”

Both Barbara and Dick knew what Bruce meant by push.

“So, Barbara,” Bruce said. “I’m sending you to Wilde’s mansion. Make sure the Joker doesn’t get to him. I trust…”

“What?” Barbara and Dick interrupted.

Bruce sighed. “I _trust_ …”

“Say that again,” Dick said. “But slowly.”

The corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched a little. “I trust you’ll be capable of handling that.”

Barbara smiled. “Leave it to me.” Though the thought of dealing with some of the men in the GCPD made her want to gag. She finished the cup of Alfred’s tea for good measure.

“Dick,” Bruce said.

“Yes,” Dick said.

“Make sure you rest up,” Bruce said. “We have a long night ahead of us.”

Bruce disappeared into the hallways of Wayne Manor; his tea untouched.

…

“What?” Peter exclaimed, his McDonalds hat almost falling off his face.

“Yes Parker,” Mr. Farook said. “You’ll be cleaning up this mess this coming Saturday.”

The restaurant looked as if a volcano had just gone off but instead of lava it was a wild burst of colours sticking on the walls and furniture like a fungus.

“That’s insane.”

Mr. Farook scoffed. “There was one rule, Mr. Parker. One rule that I clearly established when you started to work here. One rule, Parker and what was that rule?”

Peter saw raspberry slushie crawling across the wall like a snail, breaking off into little red droplets on the floor.

“Never use the slushie machine,” Peter said flatly.

“And what did you do, Mr. Parker?”

The green cream soda slushie hung off the sign like moss.

Peter sighed. “I used the slushie machine.”

“Exactly,” Mr. Farook said.

“But can’t we negotiate?” Peter pleaded. “I have plans on Saturday.”

“Well you should have thought about those plans before you used the slushie machine.”

Peter groaned.

“Oh, and you’re working at the drive-in today,” Mr. Farook said.

The rest of Peter’s day involved him being drastically slowed down because of the slushie mould that got stuck on his foot and seeing cars appear back and forth in front of him repeating the same damn line.

“This is McDonalds DC27,” Peter said, forcing a smile. “What is it you’ll be having today?”

After his hellish day working at the drive-in, Peter tried scraping that god damn mould off his shoe but to no avail. He dragged himself back home, wondering how he’d break the news to Barbara that he’d have to cancel.

He walked by Ditko’s electronics store on his way home. Peter always passed by Ditko’s on his way back home, checking out the latest in electronics. It came to a point where Mr. Ditko always greeted him with a friendly smile. This time Mr. Ditko’s eyes were glued on the TV screen.

“Hey Mr. Ditko,” Peter said.

“Hey Peter,” Mr. Ditko said in his scratchy voice. “Did you see the news today?”

Peter was checking out the big screen TV’s with a look of envy on his face. Boy oh boy what he would do get himself one of those UHD ones. It was so damn unfair that Harry had one in his living room while Peter had to scrap by with some old ass TV from the 80’s.

“No,” Peter said. “What’s going on?”

“Well we have that new freak, the Joker going around killing innocent people,” Mr. Ditko said, a look of disdain on his face. “Now we have this freak with wings tearing up trucks.”

At that Peter got out of his post work stupor. “Did you say wings?”

Mr. Ditko nodded. “Yep, man calls himself Vulture. He’s going around killing ACE chemical managers and blowing up their factories.”

Peter felt his stomach churn. He knew he should have done something about Vulture. He knew he shouldn’t have let the police handle it.

“First Penguin has the gall to kidnap Bruce Wayne and now we have terrorists killing innocent people.” Mr. Ditko shook his head. “What the hell has this city come to, eh Parker?”

He didn’t get a response.

“Parker.”

He craned his neck around the store, looking for the kid. “Eh must’ve gotten scared outta his mind,” Mr. Ditko mumbled to himself. “Don’t blame him.”

He glued his eyes on the TV screen, the news reporter talking standing in front of Jay Wilde’s manor.

…

“Damn look at the figure on that chick,” Officer Peralta said, nudging his friend. “Batman has some hot friends let me tell you that.”

Jay Wilde’s manor was filled to the brim with alert GCPD officers and much to Batgirl’s surprise, a fully equipped SWAT team with officers standing guard at the doors, their eyes alert and focused. As she walked through the winding hallways some of the SWAT officers stared at her with murder in their eyes.

“You’ll have to forgive them, Batgirl,” her dad said, causing her to jump. “They don’t trust you folk especially after how badly they got embarrassed by Batman all those years ago.”

“D… I mean Commissioner Gordon,” Batgirl said. “You have to forgive me for getting startled. I’m not used to being snuck up on.”

Her dad chuckled. He took squeezed out a cigarette from his box. “First time for everything.” He puffed out smoke. “So, I take it he’s busy.”

Batgirl nodded. Her stomach squirmed a little like it always did when she felt something was awkward. Normally this didn’t happen around her father but seeing her father stare at her like she was a complete stranger, a workmate instead of his own daughter made her feel uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t express.

“Where’s Wilde?” Batgirl asked, to get her bearings obviously but mainly to break the silence. The silence that wasn’t there when they’re at home around the dinner table.

“He’s in the basement,” Dad said. “House has too many windows.”

“How’s he taking it?”

Dad smiled. “Not well.”

Batgirl chuckled. “Figures.”

“We checked his bloodstream for any traces of poison,” dad said. “We didn’t find any. As usual, we cross referenced the database your boss sent us with camera footage and sure enough, everybody who went in and out Wilde’s mansion within the past 24 hours matches what we saw in the database.”

“Can I go see him?” Batgirl asked.

“Be my guest.”

Dad lead her through the labyrinthine hallways of Wilde’s mansion. The basement door was a musty wooden door. When her dad opened it, they were greeted by a cloud of dust. Both of them coughed.

“If the cigarettes don’t kill me, it’s going to be the dust in this mansion.”

They walked down the dusty staircase. At the end of the stairway they were two guards. They let her Dad go but blocked her from going any further.

“She’s with me boys,” Dad said.

The guards stared at her before parting way and letting her through.

The lights of the basement flickered. It was occupied by rows of empty suits of armour holding swords firmly upright. The suits of armour were caked with dust and that paired with the sheer density of suits on display made Barbara feel a little claustrophobic. GCPD and SWAT officers patrolled the basement, carrying automatic weapons. A few of them were sitting around an old brown table playing cards and drinking beer. Most of them stared at her with suspicion in their eyes, the rest were grinning, others were whistling.

Jay Wilde was at the end of the basement, being guarded by two SWAT officials. A mess of a man, Jay Wilde’s hair was sticking out in all directions. His shirt was tucked at one end and his shirt blazer had a button missing. He was pacing around back and forth, shouting at random SWAT officials before sitting on a chair, tapping his foot against the floor.

As soon as he saw her Dad he got up.

“Gordon you’ve got to let me out of here,” he said, grabbing both of the Commissioner’s shoulders. “I’m getting crazy sitting here.”

“It’s for your own good, Mr. Wilde.”

“My own good.” Wilde laughed. “My own good. Come on Gordon you know that’s fucking crazy.”

He snapped his head at Batgirl. “And who the fuck is that?”

“She’s with me,” Gordon said. “She’s been assigned to protect you.”

Wilde laughed. “This that Batgirl I’ve been hearing about. The Batman not care about me enough that he sent a woman to protect me.”

Batgirl clenched her fist but Gordon raised a hand.

“She’s more than capable of protecting you,” Gordon said.

“Oh, sure she is,” Wilde said. “You know what my dad always told me. Never send a woman to do a man’s job.”

“Asshole,” Batgirl muttered.

“Locked in my own basement,” Wilde laughed. “My own basement.”

Wilde sat on his chair, hand on his head.

“Now you know what I have to deal with every day,” her dad said.

Batgirl let out a sigh. Sitting on his chair hunched over, surrounded by two shiny suits of armour Jay Wilde looked like he was kneeling before a guillotine, the suits of armour the executioner.

Looking at the armour, Batgirl felt a shiver run down her spine. Like she was being watched. Watched by a pair of venom green eyes.

…

A torrent of rain poured on the metal rooftops of Cobblepot fisheries causing a hypnotic clang to echo throughout the pier. It was 7 PM and large strobes of heavily armed mercenaries patrolled the faded parking lot, the rain piercing through their armour and bouncing of their weapons. Floodlights blazed through the night sky like a lighthouse, shining across the fisheries like the sun. In the heavy downpour of the rain Batman could make out through the eyes of his binoculars the pair of eerie green glow of night goggles piercing through the darkness from his spot atop the rooftops. It was like being stared at by a pair of cold green eyes.

“How many we looking at?” Robin asked, crouching beside him.

“Around 20 of them,” Batman said. “All heavily armed, all carrying AK 47’s and M16’s.”

“So how do you think we should tackle this?”

“Quietly,” Batman said. “We can’t alert the guards. We can’t let Penguin escape a third time.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Robin asked. “They’re heavily armed. They have night goggles and floodlights. We take one step in their and we’re sitting ducks.”

“The floodlights are connected to a generator, away from the main power source of the fisheries,” Batman said. “We take care of that; we take care of our main problem.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Robin asked. “Wouldn’t the main power source, I don’t know. Be guarded?”

“That’s why _we_ won’t be doing that,” Batman said. “You’ll go in alone, disable the generator and then I’ll come in and dispatch the guards out front. If we both go in, we’ll attract attention.”

“Yay me,” Robin muttered.

There was a flash of lightning and a roar of thunder.

“I’ll send you a map of the area,” Batman said. Robin nodded. “Now go.”

Robin jumped off the building and the operation commenced.

…

It started to rain by the time Peter made it to the junkyard. Droplets of water poured from the mounds of trash, dripping on the gravel ground below. Homeless men huddled beneath sheets of metal, sharing food and smoking cigarettes.

Peter Parker needed an electromagnet. The last time he had a run in with the Vulture he almost died. This time he’d be prepared. Peter didn’t know where he could find an electromagnet, let alone the parts to build one but he knew someone who did.

Peter entered the junkyard looking for Adrian Toomes.

…

It was weird, Batgirl thought. Why was the armour to Skinner’s right shiny? The rest of the suits of armour were covered in dust but why was this one glimmering.

The lights flickered.

“What’s up?” her dad asked as she carefully made her way to the suit of armour. She was on guard, her body tense.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Batgirl said, letting out a tense. “Just checking something.”

Batgirl ran her hand across the armour.

“What the hell is she doing?” Wilde asked, turning his head slightly.

“Checking something,” Gordon said flatly.

Wilde laughed. “I didn’t give her the authority to touch my stuff. Get her away from that.”

“It’s police business.”

Wilde scoffed. “Police business my ass. You guys can rob my house clean and call it police business.” Wilde went to one of the guards and placed her hand on his shoulder, pointing at Batgirl. “Get her away from that.”

The guard stared at him blankly.

“Now!”

Batgirl examined the joints, running her hand through the armour. It was squeaky clean from head to toe.

The guard cleared his throat. ”Ma’am I’m afraid you’re going to have to get your hands off the property.”

“Wait,” Batgirl said.

The guard turned to Gordon who shook his head but Wilde wasn’t having it.

“What the hell did your dad teach you?” Wilde said, his face as red as a tomato. “When it comes to women you have to be firm!”

The guard sighed. “Ma’am if you don’t unhand that armour, I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave.”

Even underneath the mansion they could hear the thunder rumble. The light flickered.

Batgirl moved the arm, it creaked.

“Ma’am, please,” the guard said. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to handcuff you if this goes on any further.”

Gordon sighed. “Listen to the man, Batgirl. No point being stubborn.”

“Just wait a sec,” Batgirl snapped.

The thunder growled. Rain started dancing on the roof of Claridge’s manor.

Batgirl couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong about this suit of armour. That something was off. The Joker mentioned that he was going to get up close and personal. Was this what he meant? She looked into the holes of the visor and it made her stomach churn. It was almost as if it was staring back.

Wilde screeched. The guard fumbled. Lightning flashed and Barbara Gordon opened the visor.

_To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 10

The generator rumbled; a black leather sheet spread over it to protect it from the rain. The floodlights swung around the Fisheries, shining across the faded signs and weathered buildings. Robin hid in the shadows, hiding behind empty trucks and empty crates as he snuck towards the generator, avoiding the green glow of the night goggles like they were venomous snakes.

Robin leapt out of the way as one of guards snapped his head in his direction, thanking his parents and Haly’s circus for teaching him acrobatics as he found himself behind a van.

The rumbling of the generator grew louder. Hidden beneath a small stack of crates and through a pair of binoculars Robin saw two men, M16’s in hand running patrols around the generator.

Luckily, they weren’t many guards around. Robin snuck to a truck close to the generator. He needed to confirm their method of communication before he made a move. He poked his head out of the corner, checking the equipment on one of them standing a few meters away from the truck. He checked his belt; a pistol was holstered his right hip but no walkie-talkie. He looked up at his face, his bald head shining because of the rain and saw an earpiece. If the other guy saw him, Robin wouldn’t have time to knock him down before calling reinforcements and he’d be ripped apart like fried chicken.

He’d have to use stealth.

...

The rain felt like it was seeping through his skull and into his brain. Diesel knew he shouldn’t have gone bald before the job but his girlfriend said his hair looked like a dead cat so he decided that he’d get a haircut just the afternoon before the boss called him, telling him he got a job. So here he was standing in the rain with the rain pouring down his skull like it was a fucking umbrella.

And the boss wouldn’t let him get an umbrella. No, Johnson said. We have to look strong in front of the contractor, you know? Present an image. But when the contractor was a midget with a forced British accent Diesel did not give two flying shits about impressing him. And to make matters worse, Diesel’s job was guarding the generator with no direct contact with the contractor.

“Look strong in front of him,” Diesel said in a mocking voice. “We’re mercenaries, we have an image to uphold.”

At least when the Batman or his sidekick Ostrich got here, he’d be the last to get attacked, seeing as he was so far back into the perimeter that Batman wouldn’t care much to get to him.

As he made his patrol around the generator (for the 100th time), flashlight beaming across the truck in front of him he heard something. He heard the knocking of metal, like someone was tapping the truck, it sounded like it was behind the truck. Diesel stiffened. He slowed down his pace, gun loaded and with a swift movement his gun was pointed at… emptiness.

“What’s the matter?” his partner Osman asked.

“What was that?”

“You looked like you’ve seen a ghost,” Osman said. “What’s up?”

“Just thought I heard something, is all.”

He was just about to leave but he heard that knocking again. This time it was inside of the truck, most notably the wagon.

The cover flapped in the wing. Diesel yanked it open, flashlight darting across the empty crates. He put on his night goggles; the world enveloped in a green glow.

“Yo Diesel, what’s up?” Osman asked as he stepped into the back of the truck.

“Stay on the defensive,” Diesel said. “I’m hearing something in here.”

Osman had his weapon trained at the back of the truck. Meanwhile Diesel was searching through the truck, his gun trained in one direction as he darted around, searching behind crates before moving to the next.

He finally made it to the back of the truck where the largest crate stood. A crate big enough for someone to fit in. Diesel opened the crate, the cover swayed open letting out a whine. Diesel had his gun focused on the crate, his body tense.

Three Vibranium weapons were placed in the crate, standing side by side. Diesel let out a sigh of relief. He turned around and the last thing he saw before he blacked out was a flash of red.

…

Diesel was taking way too long for just a checkup. Sure, Osman hated the bastard but that didn’t mean the Bat had to get him.

Osman was about to call in reinforcements but before he could he was knocked into the ground, his M16 clattering across the floor. The world swirled around him but he noticed a black fist closing in on his face like a sledgehammer.

Osman reached out for his pistol so he could get the bastard.

“No, you don’t,” Robin said. Robin yanked out the pistol and threw it aside. Osman used this as an opportunity to punch the kid across the face and shove him off.

He was about to call in reinforcements but before he could switch on the headset there was a sharp jolt of pain in his palm. Osman saw one of those Batarangs the boss briefed him on (this one being red instead of black) sticking out of his palm and blood running down his arm.

He turned just in time to see Robin leap in the air, landing a dropkick straight in his chest.

Osman felt the air snap out of his lungs as he landed on the ground with a thud. Meanwhile after the dropkick, Robin landed gracefully on his feet and before Osman could even do anything Robin crushed his headset and kicked him across the face, knocking him out.

Now to deal with the generator, Robin thought. There was no way he could hit it, even if he could do destroy it without making noise if somebody noticed the generator was just scrap metal, they’d probably call the Penguin and he’d get away again. He needed to do this in a way that didn’t physically alert the guards.

And he knew just how he’d do it.

Batman scanned the fisheries from the rooftop, his cape billowing in the wind. The floodlights danced in the night sky ready to alert the guards below to any intruders that might be brave enough to glide above them.

“The disruptor has been placed on the generator,” Robin said through the radio. “I repeat, the disruptor has been placed on the generator.”

Judging by the direction of the wind, if Bruce started to glide now, he’d be landing right at the front gates of the fisheries.

“Switch it on.”

“Alright,” Robin said. The disruptor beeped and soon the generator was engulfed in blue sparks. The loud rumble of the generator coughed and sputtered before it finally stopped.

The bright beams of the floodlight flickered, one last tango before it finally disappeared.

Batman got up. “Deal with their trucks,” Batman said. “Make sure Penguin has no means of escape.”

Robin grinned. “You got it boss.”

“I’ll deal with the mercenaries.”

Batman leaped off the building, plummeting to the ground like a missile. The wind fought back, first with very little resistance and then it began its onslaught. But the Batman would not lose.

He spread his wings wide, the wind fighting against the black wall of its impenetrable far, the floor getting closer and closer to the Batman’s face before release. Soon, the Batman was gliding in the air above the walls of Gotham fisheries like an eagle above its prey.

…

Batgirl opened the shutter only to be greeted by a vacuum.

She didn’t know why she breathed a sigh of relief, after all the Joker wouldn’t be stupid enough to hide in a suit of armor.

“Ma’am I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave,” said the guard.

“Oh, come on! I was just helping out with the investigation,” Batgirl said.

“By doing what?” Wilde said. “Laying your filthy hands on the only suit of armor that got cleaned before these bozos stormed in. Get out of here!”

“It was just a mistake,” Batgirl said. “I thought I saw something.”

Wilde scoffed. “How stupid do you have to be? You really think the Joker would be hiding in a suit of armor? I don’t think the Joker is as stupid as you are.”

Batgirl sighed. “Still doesn’t give you a reason to push me out of here.”

The expression on Wilde’s face changed from that of an angry tomato to that of a stressed-out college student. “The presence of this here Batgirl causes me great duress. I’d like to kindly request she be removed from the premises.”

“What?” Batgirl exclaimed.

Gordon sighed. “Just listen to him Batgirl. No point in dragging this on any further.”

Batgirl wanted to protest but decided there was no point in being stubborn. As long as she was still in around the mansion, she could keep track of what’s going on with Wilde. She left the basement and waited outside the door. Outside, lightning flashed and thunder roared. She could see the windows of the mansion dotted with millions of raindrops that slide down the glass, dropping into a puddle before.

The GCPD officers that were patrolling the mansion found it very professional to stare at her and make snide comments with their friends. Checking the giant grandfather clock in the living room, Barbara saw the time was only 8 P.M.

She was in for a long night.

…

Peter navigated through the junkyard using his bag as a makeshift umbrella. He made his way through giant mounds of trash, makeshift shelters and homeless men until he found Mr. Toomes’s shelter.

His spider sense started buzzing. It had started to buzz before he even entered the junkyard. Peter knew it was a dangerous place, many of the people giving him stony looks as he navigated his way through the junkyard. The other people grinning and pointing at Peter in a condescending way as if to say “Look at this stupid kid” but as soon as he made it to Mr. Toome’s place it started to buzz even louder.

Peter looked around, seeing if there was any potential danger before he knocked the door of Mr. Toome’s house, the rain drops dripping off the metal roof. Mr. Toomes didn’t answer. Peter knocked the door again, his spider sense buzzing.

“Mr. Toomes,” Peter called. “You there? I’m freezing out here!”

Adrian Toomes opened the door.

“Parker?” Adrian asked, wearing an old jacket and faded jeans. Peter’s spider sense stopped buzzing. “The hell you doing here?”

“I need help for another science project.”

Mr. Toomes sighed. “Come in kid.”

Peter entered the “house”, hanging his soaked jacket on a makeshift coat rack. He noticed buckets dotting the floor, some of them overflowing with water. The floor was covered with newspapers and the invention that Mr. Toomes had covered with a waterproof material. The “windows” were covered by a flimsy cloth that flailed in the wind despite being soaked to the last thread. All the wires that were trailing across the floor and spare parts that littered the floor were nowhere to be seen. Peter assumed that it was in the trunk he saw tucked away in the corner of the room.

“So, what do you need kid?” Mr. Toomes asked.

“An electromagnet,” Peter said. “One I can control remotely.”

Mr. Toomes chuckled. “Your school’s really demanding.”

Peter thought about the Vulture and nodded. “You can say that. A plusses always seem to escape me.”

Mr. Toomes grinned. “Used to be like that for me back in school too. Though the problem usually came from me being too smart and not doing things the way teachers wanted me to.”

Peter chuckled.

“I’ll gather the parts in around two days,” Mr. Toomes said. “And I’ll teach you how to build one of those. After that you’re not coming to this here junkyard again, you hear?”

“How come?” Peter asked.

“This junkyard’s too dangerous,” Mr. Toomes said. “I barely managed to scrape by when I first came here. People here will prey on you the moment you show any weakness. They’re like vultures. Gimme your number kid.”

Mr. Toomes pulled out one of those old flip-phones. The screen was cracked and the keypad creaked under the weight of his fingers but it still looked like it worked.

Peter told him his number. Adrian nodded and with a swift moment his phone was back in his pocket.

“I’ll call you when I get the parts,” Mr. Toomes said. “Now get on out of here kid, before it gets dark.”

Peter sat on the sofa. He wasn’t particularly excited about going home, especially after the falling out he had with May.

“What’s up kid?” Mr. Toomes said. “You look under the weather.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance. There was a flash of lightning.

“Oh,” Peter said. “It’s nothing.”

“You sure,” Mr. Toomes said. He put a hand on his shoulder. “Forget what I said about getting out of here, let me treat you to a drink. How about some coffee?”

Peter smiled. “Is it expired.”

Mr. Toomes grinned. “Only about two days off.”

…

The rain let off for a bit enough for Mr. Toomes to make two cups of coffee. Peter sat on the sofa and Mr. Toomes sat on the one-legged stool across him, sipping his coffee.

“My wife used to love coffee,” Mr. Toomes said. “If there was anything, she was keeping from me I used to make her a cup and she’d keep on going on like a radio host.”

Mr. Toomes let out a soft laugh, a wistful look in his eyes. He cleared his throat. “But this isn’t about me, Peter. Tell me what’s going on in your end.”

Peter spun his cup around, tapping his fingers against the scratched surface. He took a deep breath. “My aunt and I had a falling out. First it started with her saying something about my uncle that didn’t sit right with me. Then she tells me that I can’t hang out with my friend. My only friend.”

“She’s worried about you Pete,” Mr. Toomes said. “And take it from a parent, that’s what we tend to do. We worry.”

“I know,” Peter said and sighed. “But I still can’t forgive her for what she said about my uncle.”

“What happened to your uncle?” Mr. Toomes asked.

“He…” Even thinking about it made Peter’s heart feel heavy. “He died. A burglar got him.”

Peter felt a tear streaking down his cheek. “I was really close to him, you know? We used to build stuff together.”

Mr. Toomes nodded. He placed his cup on the table and sat next to Peter, hand on his shoulder. He shuffled around his pockets pulling out a pink handkerchief.

“Wipe up,” Mr. Toomes said, tucking the handkerchief in Peter’s hands. “Don’t want my house flooding up any more than it already is.”

Peter chuckled. He wiped his eyes and handed the handkerchief back to Mr. Toomes.

“I can’t forgive her,” Peter said. “I can’t forgive her for what she said.”

“I can’t pretend to know your situation, Mr. Parker,” Mr. Toomes said, going back to sit on his stool. “But I’m pretty sure it isn’t your Aunt that needs your forgiveness but you.”

“What do you mean?”

Mr. Toomes shrugged. “You’ll find out as time goes. I suppose. But let me tell you something I learned.”

“That is?”

“These fights,” Mr. Toomes said, his expression a mixture of serious and sad. “With your family, with the people you love. Sometimes it’s best to just suck up your pride and apologize. The missus and I had a lot of fights some small, some big. Hell, some of them are unresolved to this day but sitting and thinking about it now, makes me realize how petty it all was.”

“I don’t think an apology is enough,” Peter said.

“Then what is?” Mr. Toomes asked.

“I… um…” Peter struggled to find the words.

Mr. Toomes laughed. “Exactly. I don’t expect you to understand now Pete, you’re still have years ahead of you. But take it from me, apologize now. Before it’s too late.”

The smile on Mr. Toome’s face disappeared. Instead he stared down, a solemn expression on his face.

“What happened to your family, Mr. Toomes?” Peter asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Please call me Adrian,” Adrian said. “I’m not that old. As for my family…”

“We split up,” Adrian said, not meeting Peter’s eyes. “Like families do, nowadays.” Adrian smiled. “Ain’t nothing special.”

“I’m sorry, Mister…” Peter shook his head. “I mean Adrian.”

Adrian smiled. “Ain’t your fault kid.” He got up. “You should be heading home, it’s getting late.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah I should.”

“I’ll call you when I get the parts for your little electromagnet,” Adrian said. “You have an umbrella?”

Peter shook his head.

Adrian shuffled through his toolbox until he found a black umbrella. “Bit rusty but it’ll do.” He tossed the umbrella to him which Peter caught.

“What’ll you be doing?” Peter asked.

“Got some work to do but I don’t mind dropping you off, junkyard gets real dangerous around this time,” Adrian said. “You live around the block?”

Peter nodded. “It’s alright, I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Adrian said. “But it’s my treat. Some interesting company to keep you busy on your way home.”

Adrian dropped him off to his apartment block.

“Thanks Mis… Adrian,” Peter said. “Really appreciate it.”

Adrian smiled. “I should be thanking you, kid. Been a while since I talked about my wife. Feels like a weight off my chest. See you around, kid?”

Peter nodded. “See you around.”

Adrian waved at him before he headed back. Peter, on the other hand climbed up the stairs to his apartment. He got a message from May telling him that she’d be late. That was great. It gave him time to make more web fluid and stitch up his suit. Everything was great except for one thing.

The fact that he had to message Barbara Gordon to tell her he’d be cancelling on their date.

…

The lightning had stopped but the thunder still rumbled in the distance. The rain slowed down to a steady pour and the floodlights were off at the Gotham Fisheries.

Captain Perez wasn’t nervous like the rest of his man. Instead, he was excited. He’d been excited ever since Penguin decided to hire him for this mission. After all, this was a one in a lifetime opportunity to do what no man had ever done. Kill the Batman.

“Shouldn’t we call Penguin, boss?” Lucas said. “Tell him to get the hell outta here.”

Perez shook his head. “Hell no. It could be the generator short circuited. Very likely, especially in this weather. No need to cause a fuss.”

Perez was lying. Lying very blatantly. Anybody who had a single brain cell knew that the Batman was here. But Perez was a stubborn man which was why he couldn’t keep a girl for more than a month. Perez never compromised when it came to his goals and being the reason, the big bad Bat bites the bullet was one of them.

“Getting static from Osman’s and Diesel’s headsets,” Rodriguez said. “What do you say Cap?”

“Take three men and check on em,” Perez said. “Make sure your night goggles are on. You see anything suspicious; you _call_ me. Don’t do anything without my say so, capiche?”

His men nodded.

“Alright boys,” Perez said, putting on his night goggles, the parking around them being enveloped in a green shroud. “Let’s see what’s up with the floodlights.”

…

Eighteen hostiles. Two of them had been knocked out by Robin. Three were headed to Robin’s previous location. Two pairs of two men were investigating the lighthouse and the rest were patrolling the parking lot searching for what caused the blackout. Meanwhile, Robin was moving from truck to truck, slashing the tires. They promised to rendezvous by the entrance of the fisheries after they were both done.

Atop a vantage point on the walls of the gate, Batman saw the scene lay out in front of him. He needed to take care of a few men before the three guards sent to investigate the generator became privy to the fact they were not alone.

His fast target was a few feet away from the gate. He was by a stack of crates, looking around for any signs of trouble. A few feet away was another mercenary.

The guard by the crates turned around. Batman glided to the ground, careful not to make a sound. He snuck towards him, stalking him like a predator stalked its prey.

The guard stopped in front of a truck, perfect.

Batman grabbed him in a chokehold, his screams muffled by his palm. He tightened his grip around his neck and before he slipped into unconsciousness, he bashed his face against the back of the truck, loud enough to attract the attention of his friend.

“Yo, Walt,” called his friend. “Walt, you okay?”

On noticing his friend’s unconscious body, the mercenary rushed towards it. Before he could call backup, Batman fired the Batclaw, his screams echoing throughout the fisheries. When he got him behind the truck, Batman had him in a chokehold, his screams muffled. He pressed against his throat until his body was still.

Sixteen left.

“I heard it over here,” called one of the mercenaries, his voice shaking. “Hurry it up guys.”

They were scared now. Batman could hear it in their voices.

Good.

…

Osman and Diesel were down and Walter and Johnathan were found unconscious by the gate, Batman nowhere to be seen. His boys were starting to panic.

“Calm down boys,” Perez said. “He’s just one man.”

Hughie wasn’t having it. Poor kid looked like he was about to piss his pants.

“C’mon Hughie,” Perez said. “No need to be worried. You and Butcher check out the trucks, look for any place he can hide.”

“You sure we shouldn’t call the Penguin?” Lucas asked. “He’s going to do a lot worse than kill you if the Batman gets to you.”

Perez grinned. “If Batman gets to him his little midget body will be too broken for him to do anything to me.”

He pat Lucas on the back. “Don’t worry Lucas. We’re going to be fine. He’s just one man.”

“You’re right,” Lucas nodded. “We’ll get him boss.”

Perez smiled. “You see, Luke? Don’t worry so much. Besides, what can one man do?”

…

One of the men was standing in front of the wagon. Batman pulled him in with the Batclaw, bullets bouncing off the roof. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the ears of the devil.

Fifteen left.

He heard the footsteps of three men sprinting towards the truck. Before they came, Batman ran towards the wagon door climbing to the roof.

They made it to the truck, one of them went to investigate the wagon. The other two made the mistake of looking up.

Before they could even react two disruptors were attached to their weapons. The tossed their guns away and pulled out their pistols but the Batman was too fast. He kicked one of the thugs in the legs, causing him to fall backwards. The other was about to pull the trigger but the Batman ducked and grabbed his arm, twirling around him and pulling his hands upward, his gun shooting the sky. The third goon came out from the truck. Before he could shoot his friend was hurtling towards him. The second goon who was on the floor tried to get a lucky shot in but shot the pavement inches away from Batman’s boot as a jolt of pain shot through his palm from the Batarang stuck in it.

While the second goon groaned in pain, Batman knocked out the other two by knocking their faces together. He punched the second in the face. He could hear more mercenaries racing towards him, around three of them. Batman stood still. The mercenaries stopped right exactly where Batman wanted them to. They cast a quick glance to their unconscious friends and were just about ready to fire at Batman when there was a puff of smoke.

Robin leaped in the air; his legs wrapped themselves around one of them. The other two turned but they were too slow. His legs still wrapped around the mercenary Robin launched him forward by arching his back and using the force of his legs to throw him backward. He landed on in a headstand. The third goon tried to shoot him but Robin, supporting his weight on one hand, threw one of his Batarangs causing him to toss the gun to the ground. Before he could even pull out his pistol, Batman kicked him across the face instantly knocking him out. Robin grinned.

“Pretty cool huh?”

Batman walked past him.

“Oh, come on,” Robin said. “Can I at least get a compliment?”

“Focus on the mission.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Robin said. “But I mean I at least deserve some sort of praise for pulling off that move.”

While Robin continued to rant, Batman ignored him finding a vantage point in order to see what was happening.

9 left, he noted. And boy were they scared.

…

One by one, their signals went out. Rodriguez, Butcher, Hughie, Lucas. All of them had been taken out.

_8._

Phoenix’s com was out now leaving only…

_7_

of them. Perez tried calling them, tried telling them to get into formation anything. But they were too scared, too panicked too answer.

_6, 5._

Both Ness and Jeff’s mics went out at the same time.

_4._

Ledger’s mic was gone.

_3, 2…_

Bale and Pattinson mics were static.

He was the only one left.

“You idiots!” he growled. “I have to do everything myself!”

He crushed his mic in his fist and got into position. He marched around the parking lot, firing into the air at random. The only thing he heard was the wind blowing and the rain pouring. He walked around, searching behind crates and inside trucks. He heard something moving inside one of them and his gun immediately swung into position. Turns out it was only a cat.

The parking lot was empty, save for the unconscious bodies of his squad. He noticed that the tires of the trucks had been slashed and chuckled. Clever. The Bat made sure that none of them could escape.

He was in the middle of some crates when he heard the wind rustling around him and some footsteps.

Perez chuckled. “You think you can hide from me, Bat? I got night vision goggle. You hear that? Night vision goggles. I could find you with my eyes closed.”

He saw the shadows dance behind a crate. With one smooth turn, his light was shining behind the crate revealing nothing but air.

“I’m not scared,” Perez shouted. “You hear me? I ain’t scared of you.”

He fired at random crates reducing them to splinters.

“You can come out right now,” Perez said. “And you’ll be mince meat before you can even touch me. You hear me Bat? Come out right now!”

“Boo.”

Perez screamed.

…

The marble face of his mother stared at Oswald Cobblepot. Esther Cobblepot was a wonderful woman, so full of kindness and warmth hence why his father decided to build a statue of her in one of his main offices.

His father, Penguin resented his father almost as much as he hated the Waynes. A cold, distant man who always made jabs at his size, most of his bitterness stemmed from him. He never used to hit him (at least not until he drowned in the alcohol), never used to shout him no. It was the indifference in his voice that hurt the most, like he couldn’t be bothered to call him his son. Young Ozzy always wondered how this cold man found such a lovely wife in Esther.

All around the office there were worn pictures of his mother, an oil painting hung behind the desk and his father even had a stone statue made of her. But there was nothing of Oswald, not a single trace of his existence in his room. Not even a picture.

Young Oswald grew to resent his father. After all, it wasn’t his fault he was born this way. It wasn’t his fault he was born with a pointy nose and a tiny body. He resented his father so much that when his dealings with Falcone were leaked, he felt so happy.

That happiness was not to last.

Many of the bruises, many of the scars on his body were from the drunken abuse of his father. He remembered his father would drag him by the ears into the basement despite his mother’s pleas and beat him. After he was done, he’d leave young Oswald crying in the basement, alone with all the spiders and the insects. Young Oswald Cobblepot couldn’t even go out to use the toilet. His only hope being his mother who would open the basement door, her eyes red and puffy.

At the young age of 12, Esther Cobblepot committed suicide. She was found in the living room, her mouth foaming and pills spilling on the floor. Instead of getting better, his father got worse beating on him, humiliating him. Oswald remembered how he one locked him in his own closet without clothes, Cobblepot crying the entire night to the point that his throat was sore.

At the age of 15, his father died but his resentment didn’t go away. If it wasn’t for the Waynes he wouldn’t have lost money. If it wasn’t for the Waynes, his mother wouldn’t have died. If it wasn’t for the Waynes his father wouldn’t beat him and throw him in the closet and rip his clothes and kick him.

And his resentment only grew when he figured out that the only reason that the Waynes cut off their partnership with the Cobblepots was because of a picture, a single inconsequential picture of Falcone and his father laughing. They had been no deals; no backwater money transfers. Just two men laughing.

And on that day Oswald Cobblepot was dead and the Penguin was born.

He cradled the statue of his mother, hand on her cheek. “I swear mum, I swear after all this is over, I’ll avenge you. I swear.”

Penguin could feel his throat clamp up. His mother didn’t laugh at him for being short. His mother didn’t shout him or give him backhanded compliments like his father. His mother loved him fully and unconditionally. He’d do anything to bring her back.

The phone rang. Oswald let it ring for a while, cradling his mother’s face for a while before The Penguin answered the phone.

“What it is it?” Penguin asked.

“The mercenaries,” stuttered Danny. “The mercenaries…”

“Can you calm yourself boy?” Penguin said. “What about the mercenaries?”

“They’re all knocked out,” Danny said. “A-and the vehicles they’re all out of commission. B-Batman and R-Robin are here.”

Well, shit.

…

The shutter door creaked open with a hiss. Batman and Robin were greeted not by a welcoming party but by 20 goons who looked ready to kill.

“Pretty great welcoming party,” Robin said. “Don’t you think.”

Half a dozen had guns. Machine guns, shotguns the works. Seven of them had other weapons old steel pipes, knives and baseball bats. The other seven used their fists. They were led by a man who towered above them wearing nothing but a vest that strained under his muscles and the black and white mask of the Penguin.

“Batman and Robin,” the big guy said. “Boss told me that we had to bring you to him, alive preferably. He has a bone to pick with you after you took Bruce Wayne away from him.”

“And who are you supposed to be?” Batman asked.

“My name is Tiny,” the big guy said. “Not my real name. I’ve been with the boss for two or three years. Never thought to use me until now. Now you can either come with us easily and not strain yourself with my boys over here.”

“And if we refuse?” Robin asked.

“Well the boss did say preferably.”

The goons with guns loaded their weapons. The others tapped their weapons against their palms or cracked their knuckles.

“So, what’s it going to be?” Tiny asked. “Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way.”

Robin twisted his neck enough to crack the tendons in it. Meanwhile Batman cracked his knuckles.

“Well, I do like myself a challenge,” Batman said. He turned to Robin. “What about you?”

Robin smirked. “Bring it,” he said as they disappeared into a puff of smoke.

…

There was no escape. All the trucks had been compromised and the mercenaries Penguin paid good money for could barely form a sentence. The weapons were stored in a huge vault right in his office and there was no telling whether or not the buffoons out front could even handle Batman and Robin.

Cobblepot was in a bad situation. Really bad. He wanted so badly to curl up in the arms of his mother like he did when he was bullied but all he had was the cold stone statue of her standing right by the vault.

He paced around the room, his umbrella clattering on the floor. Downing every bottle of beer, he could find lying around in the room. He rubbed his forehead, his hands running over the oil painting of his mother. In the picture his father sneered at him, as if even from beyond the grave he was saying: “Look at you now, midget. Look at how useless your fat ass is.”

Cobblepot ripped the photo of his father leaving only his legs in the picture frame. He guzzled another bottle of beer as he heard gunfire ring across the hallways of Cobblepot Fisheries before finally deciding to sit down on his chair, scratching his bald head.

An hour later the lights went off.

…

The men with guns had been dispatched off. Now all that was left was Tiny and his band of merry men.

One of the goons tried to swing a bat at Robin. Robin ducked as the goon kicked him in the stomach causing him to stumble backwards. Another tried to hit him from behind but before he could Batman stunned him with a wave of his cape and punched him in the stomach before flipping him down.

The goon with the bat tried to hit him in the face again but Robin kicked him the stomach and did a backflip, just in time to see a few men reaching for the guns. He threw his Batarangs at them, managing to hit one of them in the palm and the other in his leg. The goon with the baseball bat tried to hit him but before he could even counter let alone get hit, Robin was tackled across the room by Tiny.

He felt the air rush out of his stomach and Tiny tackled him against the wall causing a jolt of pain to rush up his back. He fell on the floor, the world around him spinning.

Meanwhile, Batman was surrounded by five men who each had weapons on them. Two of them tried hitting him at the same time but Batman blocked one, yanked his iron pipe out of his hand, did a quick sidestep and knocked hit him across the face with the iron pipe. He saw Tiny charging across the room with Robin and one of the men try to grab a gun all the while two other thugs tried to attack him at the same time. He ducked under the two men throwing a disruptor at the gun which send an electric shock that knocked out the goon. The other thugs tried to circle around him but Batman rolled out of the way detonating his explosive gel which sent the five goons flying.

He saw Robin crumple on the floor. Before Tiny could have his way, Batman used his Batclaw to yank Tiny backwards. Robin managed to recover as he rolled between Tiny’s legs. Tiny in a fit of rage charged at Batman who tackled him head, locked together in a grab like bulls, both trying to tackle the other to the ground, both of them not giving each other ground.

“Robin now,” Batman growled.

Robin nodded dashing towards Batman. Batman let go of Tiny causing Tiny to stumble. He ducked and Robin jumped using his back to propel him into Tiny. Robin kicked Tiny across the face before gracefully doing a backflip over him.

He landed on his feet. Tiny was still for a second, just one short second and then he crumpled on the floor.

The rest of the goons in seeing their leader knocked out thought it best to run but Batman and Robin swiftly dealt with them.

“That was a sick move we pulled together,” Robin said, rushing towards Batman. “Wasn’t it?”

Batman was silent, his eyes focused on ahead.

“Oh, come on Batman,” Robin said, rushing in front of Bruce. He raised up his hand. “Let’s at least celebrate with a high five. You owe me that.”

“Focus on the mission,” Batman said, walking past him.

Robin sighed. “Way to leave a guy hanging.”

…

Penguin sat on his chair. His umbrella pointed directly at the door. He’d kill Batman and that pretty boy before he got to him. He clutched the picture of his mother close to him, hoping and praying they didn’t get to him. That Tiny or any one of the idiots who were part of his gang would kill him and he could go on making money from those Vibranium weapons.

He loaded his gun, his finger trembling over the trigger.

The first thing he saw was red. He pulled the trigger.

“Thanks, Ozzy,” Robin said, waving the umbrella like a stick in one hand and his Batclaw in his other hand. “It’s pouring outside.”

Penguin tried to keep a straight face but everything and anything was falling apart in front of him.

“Hello Pretty Boy,” Penguin said. “Didn’t bring your daddy with you?”

Robin shrugged. “He’s much closer than you think.”

Penguin turned around and was greeted by darkness. Robin pulled out one of the chairs, turned it around and leaned on it. Robin placed the umbrella by his side, leaning against the chair.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Robin said. “So let me get straight to the point. Where’d you get the weapons?”

Penguin chuckled. He shuffled through his drawer and put a cigar in his mouth. He lit the cigar.

“So what?” Penguin said. “You’re supposed to be the good cop. Tell me, where’s you bat-daddy?”

“Eww,” Robin said. “Can you not say that?”

Penguin laughed, a dry hollow laugh. He placed the picture of his mother on the table.

“Now that you’ve made yourself comfortable,” Robin said. “Where’d you get the weapons?”

Penguin leaned forward, Robin did so too. Penguin blew out the smoke straight in his face.

“Not talking.”

“You sure?”

Penguin laughed. “Not going to yap to some dumb kid.”

Robin nodded. “Okay. The hard way it is.”

The lights came on and Penguin’s head bashed into the table. He saw two of everything. Two of his desk, two of his room and two of the Batman leaning over his table. Batman yanked Penguin out of the table and held him up.

“Where did you get those weapons?” Batman growled. “Tell me or I’ll kill you!”

Penguin scoffed. “Bollocks. We all know you don’t kill.”

He tossed Penguin to the ground. “True. But when they take you to Arkham you won’t be able to use your legs.”

Batman flipped Penguin on his back and was grabbed his leg.

The Penguin laughed. “That’s what you want to know innit?” He twisted his head to face Batman. “Well ain’t no way I’m telling you.”

Batman twisted his leg but the Penguin still laughed. “Ah, Ah Batman. You can break my bones, hell even destroy the weapons but I’ll take this secret with me to the grave.”

Batman stared at him for a while, Penguin could see the anger in his eyes. Then he did something Penguin didn’t expect.

He got up from the Penguin. Penguin got up, dusted himself and followed the Batman to the marble statue of his mother. The Batman removed something from his utility belt and sprayed something on it.

“Hey,” Penguin growled. “What the hell are you doing?”

He walked over to the oil painting of his mother and father and did the same.

“Stop it!” Penguin growled. “Stop it or I swear to god…”

Penguin reached for his umbrella but Robin kicked him to the ground.

“No Penguin,” Robin said. “You said you wanted to do this the hard way.”

After spraying those pictures, Batman put the gun-like device in his utility belt. “Before coming here, I read your psyche profile in the Arkham database. Turns out you’re a bit of a mummy’s boy, aren’t you?”

“I swear to god if you do anything to her,” Penguin growled.

“I won’t,” Batman said. “If you talk.”

“Screw you,” Penguin growled. “I’m not talking!”

“The thing I sprayed on the statues is a special form of gelignite,” Batman said. “If I pull this trigger.” Batman pulled out a gun like thing from his utility belt. “Whatever traces you had of your mother will go boom.”

Batman smirked which made Penguin feel unsettled. “You don’t want that do you?”

Penguin stared at Batman. He swore to himself that he wouldn’t spill to the Bat. He wouldn’t. Batman raised the trigger in the air, fingers getting closer and closer to the trigger.

“Fine,” Penguin grumbled. “Fine I’ll tell you where I got em.”

Robin pat him on the back. “Good boy.”

Penguin sighed. “I bought of the Joker. Me and the boys said no, we aren’t going to buy government issue weapons off of some random cunt dressed in a clown suit but the Joker told us it wasn’t government issue. Pulled out some papers.”

“Who bought the weapons?” Batman asked.

“At first we couldn’t believe it,” Penguin said. “No way these weapons were smuggled. These were high grade weapons, no way in hell someone could steal it. But much to our surprise that was exactly the case.”

“Did Joker mention the original buyer?” Batman asked. “Before he sold it to you?”

“No, but me and some of the boys did some research,” Penguin said. “Turns out it’s Ulysses Klaw.”

“Head of security of Ace Chemicals,” Batman said. “But why would they need Vibranium weapons?”

Penguin shrugged. “Beat me.”

Batman grabbed him by the collars. “You better not be lying to me.”

“I swear,” Penguin whimpered. “I swear to me mum.”

Batman let go of Penguin, letting him drop to the floor.

“So, you gonna let me go?” Penguin asked.

“No,” Batman said. “Robin tie him up.”

While, Robin was tying him up Batman started to think. Why did Ace Chemicals need such high caliber weapons? What were they hiding? What did the Joker know that he didn’t?

“Robin call the GCPD,” Batman said. “Send them the co-ordinates to the Penguin’s location?”

Robin nodded, tapping buttons on his gauntlet.

“Done,” Robin said.

Penguin laughed. “I shouldn’t have spilled.”

“What was that?” Batman asked.

“I shouldn’t have spilled,” Penguin said. “Should have know you would be too chicken to pull the trigger.”

“Leave him Bats,” Robin said. “Let’s go rendezvous with Batgirl.”

“Stupid little Bat,” Penguin laughed. “Doesn’t have the balls.”

“C’mon Batman,” Robin said. “This isn’t worth your time.”

Batman pulled the trigger.

Penguin let out a cry as the statue of his mother exploded into a volley of white dust. The painting and the picture were consumed by flames and the only remnants Penguin had of his mother was white dust.

At first the Penguin stared at the statue in half. And then he started crying. Tears started streaming down his face as the Penguin broke down in fits of ugly sobs. He didn’t look like a crime lord but a little boy.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Robin looked at the Penguin and then looked at Batman, at Bruce and saw something different. Something he had been ignoring for a long time.

They were in the Batmobile when Robin started talking about it.

“That was uncalled for Bruce,” Dick said.

“What was?”

Dick shrugged. “I don’t know, blowing up those pictures and that statue. That was his mother Bruce.”

“He’s a criminal Dick,” Bruce said. “Criminals need to be shown through whatever means that we’re not to be messed with.”

“It was still his mother Bruce,” Dick said. “If anybody should know why doing that is wrong, it should be you.”

Bruce was silent. It was 11:45 when they left the fisheries. No matter how fast Bruce drove, Dick knew they wouldn’t make it to Barbara in time. He just had to hope and pray that she would be oay.

…

It was 11:55 and the GCPD were getting nervous. They started drawing their weapons, patrolling the hallways and jumping at anything that moved.

Barbara Gordon tried to get in the basement but the SWAT team had beat her to it, chasing her out. Jay Wilde was surrounded by a circle of guards, all of them armed with automatic weapons. Commissioner Gordon searched around the basement with his gun drawn.

The guards got into position and by 11:57, Wilde’s manor looked less like a mansion and more of a military base.

The clocked ticked. Barbara waited outside the door of the basement seeing the minutes pass by.

11:58.

11:59.

12:00 came and nothing happened. Barbara let out a relieved sigh. Everything was going to be okay.

And then the lights went out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank u for support.  
> Check out twitter under NabwellPatwell and instagram under thefoolishfantasy15  
> tank u  
> goodbye


	12. Chapter 11

The gunfire started immediately after the lights went off.

Cops rushed to the basement but Batgirl was the first one who made it to the basement door. She ignored the officers behind her telling her not to go forward. She didn’t care what they said, her father was in there.

She could hear muffled laughter and gunfire. She could hear the pained grunts of police officers and bullets bouncing off metal.

Batgirl took a deep breath and opened the door to the basement.

…

**_Heyy Babsy._ **

Could he even call her that? It wasn’t like they were _that_ close.

**_Heyy Barbara. About that date._ **

No way too casual. Also, what if she didn’t think it was a date? She did say it was a date but…

**_Heyy Barbara. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it on Saturday_ ** **_☹_ ** **_. Work got in the way, maybe we can hang out next week. Maybe?_ **

Was the sad emoji a bit much? I mean if he had the time to click an emoji did it mean that he wasn’t really sad? Also, two maybes? That showed he was nervous didn’t it? And Dick told him he had to be confident.

**_Heyy Barbara. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it on Saturday. Have to work overtime because of my manager >:(. How about next week?_ **

That seemed confident enough. But Peter had to apologise, right? He felt really bad about ditching her like that.

Peter groaned. Why was texting so hard?

He walked around his room, walked around the entire apartment. Sitting on sofas and since May wasn’t there hanging upside down from the ceiling. Maybe the blood rushing to his head would give him inspiration.

He typed the text, this time with an I’m sorry in it. Realising that it sounded a little too needy, he cancelled it and typed it again, this time trying to emulate a sense of gentlemanly tact. Peter, realising that tact wasn’t his strong suit and that he was light years away from being a gentleman sighed. He was wasting a lot of time trying to come up with the perfect text.

Thunder roared.

“You’re not helping,” Peter shouted.

Peter groaned. He decided shouting the rapid expansion of air surrounding the path of a lightning bolt would not help in texting Barbara at all. He decided that he should probably do something instead of sitting around trying to text a girl he liked.

Peter was about to head back to his room when he noticed the bills on the table. Peter noticed the usual bills hidden underneath a stack of books, rent, water and electricity bills, the usual suspects. Peter sent anonymous letters to Aunt May. It was well known that Ben had a lot of friends and May got a lot of letters and gifts from them when Ben passed away, even donations. While May didn’t like the pity, she realised sentiment was stupid especially when rent was overdue. Peter took advantage of that and sent his payment through an anonymous donor. Peter could see that Aunt May was keeping up with her bills, especially since she also had a part-time job as a nurse that kept her busy most afternoons. But there was one bill that looked out of place to Peter. He saw a medical bill from a pharmacy listing aspirin, panado and a bunch of flu medicine. There was, however, two medicine that stuck out like a sore thumb. It was nitro-glycerine and statins. Peter knew that those medicines were used to treat heart conditions.

Guilt started slowly creeping up his heart. Ben always told Peter May had a weak heart which was why he did most of the work around the house. Peter saw how expensive those medicines were and realised that his donations wouldn’t be enough to afford them.

Peter scrolled through the contacts on his phone.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Farook,” Peter said, clearing his throat, he made his way to the bathroom. He remembered how Aunt May would always go to the bathroom after breakfast and dinner. Peter thought nothing of it then but he realised just how specific the times were, especially after seeing those bills. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry for disturbing. Is it possible if we change around the contract a bit?”

Peter was in the bathroom now, opening the bathroom mirror.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I want to start working overtime.”

Hidden well, but not well enough the bottles of nitro-glycerine and statins were behind tubes of Uncle Ben’s after-shave and face cream. 

“Why?” Peter asked and let out a weak chuckle. “I mean, a guy’s gotta eat, right?”

…

Suits of armour were stained with blood. Bodies of GCPD officers lay mangled all around the basement, riddled with bullet holes. Laughter echoed in the basement like a ghost, feint but it’s presence could still be felt. Batgirl navigated her way carefully through the basement, the beam of her flashlight darting across the dark basement landing on dead officers riddled with bullet holes, others sliced cleanly in half. How could the Joker have killed this many people in less than five minutes?

Her flashlight stopped at an officer with his head sliced cleanly off, the rest of his body connected only by a trail of blood. Drops of blood dripping gently on his face from a sword piercing the air attached to a twisted suit of armour. Batgirl could feel the bile in her throat, ready to erupt at any second. The only thing that was keeping her from puking on the spot was the determination to find her dad. She walked past that body. She gulped, her saliva tasting like puke.

She navigated the twisted bodies, the laughter getting louder and louder. She heard the SWAT team bursting through the doors. Their heavy footsteps felt like they were kilometres away. Batgirl felt her legs step on something squishy. She ignored her stomach squirming and darted away from it, not looking back.

She found her father leaning against a suit of armour, a crimson hand over his shoulder. Barbara rushed towards him, praying that her father wasn’t dad. Praying that the Joker didn’t take the life of the person she loved the most.

She kneeled over her father, placing two yellow gloved fingers on his neck. She breathed a sigh of relief, he was alive. She ripped open his T-shirt, revealing a suit of Kevlar armour riddled with holes. The Kevlar took the brunt of the hits. She didn’t have time to examine the bullet holes like Bruce taught her to. Know your enemy, Bruce always used to say. Well, sorry Bruce but my father’s in danger. She examined the bullet hole in his shoulder, it went straight through, barely grazing his chest. It was bleeding like hell though but her dad would be fine, just as long as the bleeding was stopped. Barbara tore a piece of his shirt and wrapped it around the bullet wound.

Her father mumbled something.

“What was that?” Barbara asked.

“Did you get him?” her father asked through heavy breaths.

“No,” Barbara said, wrapping the makeshift bandage around her father’s shoulders.

“As soon as the lights went off, there was gunfire,” Dad said. “None of us had time to react. One of the boys saw I was in the way…”

Dad was silent. Barbara turned her face to the right and saw a man rolled over, his eyes wide open and his body riddled with bullet holes. He looked young, couldn’t have been more than 24.

“Was talking about his girlfriend,” Dad said. “Probably to pass time. Sounded anxious as hell.”

He saw her dad clench his fist. “I’m going to get that bastard.”

He tried to get up but Batgirl pulled him back down. “Hell no. I’ll deal with him. You get some rest.”

Batgirl sighed, hand on her father’s shoulder. “Look, just press on your shoulder. After I deal with the bastard, I’ll get help.”

Batgirl got up. Dad called after her.

“Wait,” Dad said. “Be careful. You haven’t been around the block as much as Batman and that kid. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Don’t worry,” Batgirl said. “I can handle myself.”

“I know,” Dad said. “Just be careful.”

Batgirl nodded.

As she ran off, Gordon thought about how stubborn she was. Reminded him way too much of his daughter. Deep down maybe he believed that she was actually his daughter. Maybe that was why as she sprinted away, he prayed that she’d be okay, that the madman wouldn’t do anything to her. Looking at the bodies all around him, and the blood staining the basement it was the best he could offer. A prayer.

…

All she could see was blood.

It was like a soup. With limbs and heads strewn about like chunks of meat. And in the centre of the tangle of limbs was the body of Jay Wilde cradling his head like a baby. And the laughter. The laughter was louder, echoing through her head like a cathedral bell. 

Batgirl fell on her knees, hands over her mouth. She could feel the bile in her mouth now, struggling to get out. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream but she couldn’t. She let this happen, she let this monster get away. If she hadn’t gotten ahead of herself, she would have been in the room when the Joker arrived. She could have protected these men and Wilde from that… that… _thing._

The laughter was louder in her head, playing over and over again like a catchy song. The world around her was like a hurricane and the only thing she could focus on was Wilde’s face, his brown eyes permanently trapped in an expression of shock, remnants of his spine jutting out from his neck.

“It’s a shame,” said that voice. That jovial voice. A voice she hated and knew she would grow to hate. She heard heavy footsteps dragging themselves across the floor. She heard the sound of something metal, like a knife but bigger. “When you try your hardest and it all amounts to nothing.”

Batgirl turned to see the Joker wearing armour dented with bullet holes, blood painting the metallic surface. The armour covered his entire body, the only thing being visible was his pale white face and giant grin. He raised a sword that was red, not by design but by the blood of the officers it had taken the lives off.

“I’m going to _cut_ some time off the grieving process,” the Joker said. “Lord knows I don’t want to see that.”

He swung the sword. Batgirl rolled away and using her Batclaw ripped the sword out of the Jokers hand. She got more than she had bargained for as she also managed to rip off the gauntlet, he was wearing around his arm revealing a purple sleeve and gloves.

“I’m going to get you,” Batgirl screamed. “I swear.”

“Ooh, a feisty one,” Joker said, giggling. “I like that.”

Batgirl leaped in the air, Joker staring at her with a grin on his face. She placed her hands on his shoulder and using the momentum of that, grabbed his visor and yanked it off his face. It was a move Dick taught her.

The Joker’s green hair spilled around his face. “I always hated helmet hair,” he mumbled. “Hard to comb the next day, you know?” Batgirl spared no time, she threw aside the visor and punched him across the face. The Joker responded by swinging his armoured hand at her. Batgirl ducked, kicked him against the stomach and yanked out the gauntlet.

“Are you going to take out my clothes next?” Joker said, smiling. “I’ll have you know I’m not the type who likes being dominated.”

Batgirl couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe how he could be smiling after he had killed so many men. She knew some of these men. When her dad used to show her around the precinct when she was a kid, she used to talk to so many of them. So many of them had families, had kids and now they were all gone.

She heard SWAT, their lights darted around the Joker and her face.

“Looks like my time here is done,” The Joker said. A thousand SWAT members shuffled in. They had their guns trained on the Joker, ready to fire. “Daddy had some fun tonight.”

Batgirl was about to lunge at him when from out of nowhere she felt something wrap around her leg. Before she could even react, she felt the world flip around her and her head hit the pavement. Hard. The world around her was white noise and flashing lights. She could, hear if only faintly the screams of SWAT soldiers and the snake-like hiss of something that didn’t sound human.

The world around her spun. She could barely move her body. In the distance she heard laughter and screaming but the noise was drowned out by the pain in her head. She managed to heave herself up, the world still ringing. She dragged herself across the floor, stepping in something wet and even squashing something underneath her foot which she didn’t want to check.

After a while the ringing stopped, she still felt a little woozy but the aching had disappeared. She felt nauseous and weak and exhausted but she fought against them. She could still hear the Joker laughing in the distance and the sound of gunfire. Batgirl limped up the staircase, not looking back. Not wanting to look back.

…

Joker had left behind a trail of blood.

Bodies riddled with bullet holes, others with their intestines spilling out. She tried to ignore them, tried to block their vacant eyes and barely recognisable bodies. She hadn’t seen something like this in her life and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

The sound of automatic fire thundered in the air accompanied by pistol fire. The main entrance of Wilde’s manor was turned into a war zone as Joker fired two machine guns simultaneous, cackling like a madman. His armour and shirt sleeves were drenched with blood. So much so that his shirt was sticking against his skinny body. One officer made the unfortunate mistake of poking his head out of cover, his face was reduced to a bloody pulp.

Soon the Joker’s guns started firing air. He threw them away. Bullets bounced off his armour. The door slammed shut behind him as cops started scrambling towards him, Batgirl included.

They slammed the door open to bloodied bodies. They heard a heavy gunshot and glass shattering. They turned their heads to see Joker holding a shotgun, the officer he killed didn’t have a face anymore yet the Joker still had a grin on his face. Joker entered through the bloodied doors and switched on the car. Bullets clinked against the car’s surface as it screeched on the gravel road and drove off. 

No, Batgirl thought. No way in hell she was letting him escape.

She pressed a button on her gauntlet. There was a beeping sound that got louder and more frequent as her bike drew closer. She hopped on to it, speeding past the police cars that were in hot pursuit of the Joker.

No way in hell she was letting him escape.

…

The Joker zoomed past them, laughing in his car.

“Wasn’t that…?” Robin asked.

Barbara suddenly flew past them on her bike, bouncing off the pavement like a soccer ball.

Both Batman and Robin figured out what was going on immediately. The Batmobile screeched into a U-turn and soon the Batfamily was in hot pursuit.

…

**_First it was the girl. The clown thought that he’d be able to escape her with ease. He wondered why (he) didn’t finish her off. Maybe it was because she reminded him of how she was when they (no) met. Maybe it was because she was pretty, the clown didn’t know._ **

**_All it would take was a gunshot to the front tyre. Her movement was predictable, her driving chaotic. He could see in her eyes that she only had one focus and that was to make him pay/revenge. Part of him wanted to know what would happen when she got her yellow mittened hands on him, the other wanted to see her splattered across the pavement._ **

**_Things got interested when the Bat came into the equation._ **

**_Oh, the Bat. The clown knew a man facing darkness when he saw it. The clown could see how hard the Bat fought the darkness that threatened to consume every night he put on the costume. It was a darkness the Clown found fascinating, found himself attracted to but the clown knew deep down that he was just like the rest. If push came to shove and the two of them were alone, the Clown would die in an ‘accident’ and no one would miss him. The Bat was just like his Father/Employers/Society._ **

**_As the vehicles closed in on him, he thought about how funny it would be if the Bat’s underage girlfriend was turned into mush under the wheels of that glorified tank. The Clown laughed at that thought. He poked his hand out of the window, staring at the all the mirrors trying to get a good trajectory of a shot. He was after all a master shot/ gangster/ stuntman?_ **

**_The first shot he fired missed. The girl swerved her bike to the right. The Batmobile fired and the Clown something burst like a firecracker. His car started screeching across the road, sending sparks dancing in the air._ **

**_The Clown laughed as his car teetered off the edge of the bridge their cars were roaring across. Oh, he wondered how they would react if the car was sent plummeting off the edge? Oh, how he knew they would just let him fall. Especially the girl._ **

**_Especially the girl._ **

**_The second shot bounced off the surface of the tank. An idea burst into his head like a dynamite explosion._ **

**_He purposefully moved his car to the right, oh how he wondered what would happen when his car was sent hurtling down the bridge? How would they react?_ **

**_Second, he pointed his gun out the window. The girl tried to throw something but it missed by an inch. Momma always said he was a lucky boy and momma was never wrong._ **

**_He fired the gun. The girl knew it wouldn’t hit. She continued on her path. The Bat, safe in his tank knew he wouldn’t be in danger so he continued on his path._ **

**_Perfect._ **

**_The bullet ricocheted off the surface of the big black tank and the tyre of the girl’s bike_ **

…

burst as Batgirl was sent hurtling forward into the air before rolling in the dirt.

The stolen cop car broke through the guard rails of the bridge, taking the Joker.

“Bruce you’re going to run her over!” Robin exclaimed.

Batman swerved the Batmobile, what remained of Barbara’s bike being crushed under the tyres. He desperately tried moving away from her body but no matter what he did, her skull would be crushed by the massive tyres. Realising this, Dick pressed the eject button that was on the gear. Leaping through the air he dived towards Barbara, grabbing her and quickly using his grappling hook to attach to the guard rails on the right. The Batmobile screeched over the air where they once were.

Batman realising, they were safe drove as fast as he could to where the Joker’s car once was. He pressed a button, attaching a hook that penetrated the metal surface with ease. The bonnet of the car was inches away from the road below. Batman reversed the vehicle, the metal of the police car groaning as it was slowly pulled up like garbage in the sea of cars below.

The doors of the Batmobile hissed open as Batman got out. The police car dangled over the edge of the bridge like a bloody pendulum. Batman, his body tense and ready to react, walked slowly toward the police car like a beast about to take on another beast. His breathing was calm, his movement was steady. Batman yanked open the passenger seat.

It was empty.

“Did we get him?” Barbara asked through the intercom, her voice tired and exhausted.

“No,” Batman said. And Batman swore he could hear laughter echoing underneath the busy highways of the bridge below.

_To be continued._


	13. Chapter 12

The rest of her day was a blur. She recalled Bruce and Dick arguing about her in the Batcave, Dick storming off and Bruce going back to his work. She recalled giving her mum and by extension her dad a half-hearted excuse by telling them that she was at her friend’s house for the night. She the text she got from Peter, replying with an It’s okay that felt like it took her ages to type.

Barbara didn’t realise just how exhausted she was until she sat on the seat. Every muscle in her body was yelling at her to rest but every time she tried to close her eyes all she could see was the corpses of all those GCPD officers and Wilde’s face forever trapped in an expression of fear.

And to make matters worse there was another Joker announcement just as they entered the Batcave. It was posted on YouTube of all places found itself on a lot of d-list sites before it was taken down. The video was titled: **_HOW MANY PIECES OF DYNAMITE CAN A MAN FIT IN HIS MOUTH?!?_**

_“Hello and good evening, Clownies,” The Joker said in that annoying voice that made the anger in Barbara flare up. The Joker was in some unidentified warehouse. GCPD officers stormed the warehouse minutes later to find a corpse and a broken phone._

_“Now before I get to the video,” the Joker said. “I’d like to give a shoutout to the sponsor of this…”_

_There was muffled crying._

_“Oh, shut up, you,” the Joker said. “Yes, I know this is annoying but a man’s gotta eat. I swear if anybody skips past this part, I’m going to kill…”_

_There was the sound of something clattering on the floor. The Joker sighed. “Oh, come on.”_

_The Joker was off camera for a while before he came back._

_He sighed. “Speaking of money. Thanks to the YouTube algorithm, The Joker’s Daily killings will be on hold for a week.” The Joker feigned a sad face. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just a time sink you know? I spend too much time on those videos and YouTube just removes them and quite frankly I’m a little burnt out.”_

_The Joker stared at the corner of the screen. “What do you mean there’s a YouTube policy guideline? Do you see the other videos they post on this site?”_

_The Joker stood up. “But you came here because you read the title, didn’t you and you’re curious?” the Joker said. He picked up his camera and swung it to a man tied to a chair, beads of sweat running down his face and his body shaking like he was having a seizure. “Before I do that, I’d just like to say daily killing.” The Joker cringed. “Not really daily is it? If it’s returning next week?” The Joker shrugged. “Anyways, daily killing will be returning next week with a bang! Believe me when I say our next host is going to be a_ brute _of a man.”_

_The Joker laughed maniacally. “Now let’s get back to what we all came for, shall we?”_

_The man started letting out muffled screams, shaking the chair he was sitting on as the Joker started strapping pieces of from a purple giftbox onto him._

_“Ooh, poor little man wet himself,” the Joker said with a shrill laugh. “He’s quite a stinker!”_

_The man let out desperate cries as the Joker strapped pieces of dynamite on him._

_“Can we have a round of applause for Desmond Cain,” the Joker said. “You’d have to be nuts to have this much dynamite strapped onto you.”_

_After emptying out the box to the point where Desmond was wrapped in an armour of dynamite save for his pale face trapped in fear. A type of fear that could only be seen as a man facing something he has never seen before, the type of fear of a man facing a monster._

_The Joker struck a match. The fire lit one of the sticks of dynamite by the Desmond’s mouth._

_“50 sticks!” The Joker exclaimed. “50! Look at this madlad… is that what the kids say? I better get out of here.”_

_The Joker waved at the camera. “See you all next week!”_

_The Joker left but the camera was focused on Desmond whose face was pale. There was a stain on his pants. A tear streaked down his cheek as the fuse was swallowed away by the fire._

Barbara almost passed out when she saw it. Later she would laugh at the thought of fainting, what a girly thing to do. Bruce and some GCPD officers stormed the area, leaving Dick behind to ‘take care of her’. They found out the body was weeks old. The victim was Desmond Cain a vlogger who had come over to Gotham to visit his parents. His parents’ rotting corpses were found in their apartment.

When Bruce got back, both him and Dick got into an argument.

“You have to take her off the team, Bruce,” Dick said. “This isn’t healthy for her.”

“She’ll be fine,” Bruce said.

Dick scoffed. “Fine? Fine? She’s only been responding me through nods and shaking her head. She’s anything but fine.”

“She’s just in shock.”

“Of course, she’s in shock,” Dick said. “You saw what that monster did. I’d be pretty fucked up after that too.”

Bruce was silent.

Dick sighed. “Look Bruce, I don’t know what your endgame is but leave her out of this. I told you before that I don’t want her dragged into our mess.” Dick clenched his fist. “And I’ll say it again. Keep her out of this Joker stuff, it’s not good for her.” Dick turned to her, there was a mellow expression on his face. He turned to face Bruce and his expression changed. “But knowing you, you won’t listen to me. You won’t listen to anyone.”

Dick walked away from him. He stopped in front of her, kneeling down and smiled at her. Barbara couldn’t help but smile back, his smile was always so god damn infectious.

“Look, I’m going to get you some coffee,” Dick said. “Maybe some caffeine will get that mouth of yours running, especially after what I said to Bruce.” Dick shrugged. “Just keep your head up, Freckles.”

Dick headed off. Barbara remembered when they were in a relationship back when they were 14. She remembered how he’d always call her Freckles, how he knew a lot more than he let on, how he’d always smile at her from afar. He was a cocky asshole but once you got to know him, he’d reveal a soft, caring and warm interior. But there was always one problem, they’d be times when he’d ditch dates out of the blue and Barbara was not having any of that. Later she’d find out that charming and handsome Dick Grayson was none other than the charismatic boy wonder and their relationship would change forever.

When she became Batgirl, she saw a side of him she never saw before. He was protective. Very protective. He would always worry about her and sometimes even argue with her when she got hurt. And Barbara knew she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to be protected. She made her choice to join this war against the criminals of Gotham no matter what it threw at her. She promised to fight against the bastards that snuff out all the good Gotham has to offer, people like her dad, people like the cops who don’t take bribes or look the other way. It was her choice. She chose the danger and she didn’t want to be protected from it. She understood why Dick worried about her the way he did but she also realised that his love wasn’t the love she needed. And soon they broke up. Dick didn’t talk to her for months but soon he understood. She didn’t want to be protected by Dick, by her father, by anybody.

After the events of tonight, Barbara wasn’t so sure anymore.

A huge shadow was cast over her, it was Bruce. She looked up a little, Bruce was facing away from her, still in his Batsuit minus the cowl.

“You’re not as talkative as usual,” Bruce said.

At that Barbara smirked. “Can you blame me?”

Bruce sat by her side, practically bending over to talk to her. “What’s wrong?”

Hearing that surprised Barbara. Bruce wasn’t the type to ask if someone was okay, let alone sit next to them.

There was a silence hanging over them. Barbara had her palms crossed over her thighs. She tapped her finger against her knee and after a short pause sighed.

“I knew those people Bruce,” Barbara said. “I knew their families. Dad used to take me around the precinct sometimes and sure some of them were assholes but they had families, they had people who loved them.”

She closed her eyes, let out a long sigh and opened them again. “And now… now they’re…” She couldn’t bring herself to say gone. She couldn’t believe they were dead. She didn’t _want_ to believe they were dead. She didn’t want to believe they had been killed so mercilessly, to believe their deaths meant nothing to that monster. She had seen the bodies or what remained of them. She didn’t believe one man could be so cruel. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes.

“I don’t know what scares me most, Bruce,” she said, turning to face him with tears welling up in her eyes. “The fact that a man like that exists or the fact that I feel so empty. I feel so… hollow. They had families and friends and children and I feel… I feel nothing.”

Tears started running down her cheeks like waterfalls and her body couldn’t stop shaking no matter how hard she tried to make it stop.

Bruce put a hand on her shoulder.

“When we started this whole thing,” Bruce said. “Your father told me something. He told me he wouldn’t give up until he made this city safe for his little girl. Safe enough to walk these streets without having to watch her back. What he doesn’t know is that now you’re a part of keeping these streets safe, keeping them clean.”

“What are you trying to say Bruce?”

“You shouldn’t give up either,” Bruce said. “None of us should give up until people like Joker are locked up so that they don’t harm others again. Your father wouldn’t want us to give up and neither would those cops who have been killed.”

Bruce swung his hands back on his side. “We’ve got to keep fighting. We’ve got to keep hoping. For a better future and a better Gotham.”

Barbara stopped shaking and her thoughts stopped spiralling. She thought about why she became Batgirl. Sure, it started off as a joke, to make fun of her overprotective father who didn’t want her to be a cop. But as Batgirl she realised something. She realised how little change she’d bring as a police officer and how much more she could do (as hilarious as it sounded) dressed up as a bat. Batgirl was her chance to be more than what she was, to do more than what her father and her mother wanted her to do. And she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

She may have not been able to protect those police officers when they needed her the most. But she could avenge them. Avenge them for their families and loved ones.

Her voice was no longer shaky, it was firm. “You’re right, Bruce. I’m not giving up.”

Bruce nodded. “Good.” He got up and turned to face her. His face was calm, his blue eyes were as cold as ice. “If your father could see this, he’d be proud of you.”

Barbara smiled and nodded. “I’m going to go hit the hay, thanks for the pep talk.” She turned. “And Bruce, you’re not as cold as everybody thinks.”

Bruce was going through ACE chemical blueprints on his computer and there was no indication that he heard her.

She sighed. “Never mind.”

Bats screeched and water dripped as Barbara’s footsteps receded from the Batcave.

…

“Just put the battery there and…”

There was a loud zapping noise as both Peter and Adrian backed away from the red shell that made up the electromagnet they had been working on throughout the afternoon. It was a Sunday afternoon and Peter didn’t have any work, Mr. Toomes had texted him the previous night while he was out on patrol about managing to the find the parts. Peter went to meet him the following day to get what he’d need to take on the Vulture if he decided to show his ugly wings but mainly to avoid meeting Aunt May’s eyes because of the guilt that hurt his heart when he thought about how he’d been treating her these past few days.

“Aha,” Adrian said. “Bingo. Now we just gotta tighten the screws on the lid, Peter if you would do the honours.”

Peter nodded, he removed his gloves and held on to the lid. He was about to put it on when Adrian called out to him.

“Gloves on,” Adrian said. “You don’t want to get electrocuted now. Do you?”

“But we did everything right,” Peter said.

Adrian shook his head. “Don’t get too cocky kid. Specially when you dealing with electricity. Besides I’ll tell you something my science teach always used to tell me back in college: Better to be safe than sorry.”

“Sounds boring.”

Adrian laughed. “He was. But his advice was on point.”

Peter groaned and put on his rubber gloves before screwing on the lid. The inside of the electromagnet was a tangle of wires connected to a large battery in the left corner. Peter managed to put this all together with a little help from Adrian who expressed his surprise at how fast Peter picked stuff up.

He put the lid on and looked around for the screwdriver. On top of the red casing was a small button in the left corner. The electromagnet was around fifteen centimetres wide and had no remote control. If Peter was to use it against the Vulture, he’d have to get up close and personal, something Peter wasn’t very ecstatic about. The battery looked like a really small red lunchbox. If it wasn’t full of wires trailing through the inside and a really powerful battery Peter would probably be taking this to the cafeteria.

Peter found a screwdriver with a bright green handle and started screwing the lid shut. After doing that he pressed the button and…

“Bingo,” Peter said as the battery emitted a faint but calming hum.

“Atta boy, kid,” Adrian said, slapping him against the back. “Keep this up and you’ll be getting yourself a scholarship in Harvard in no time.”

Peter grinned as Adrian mumbled “Got some muscle on you.” It was at that moment Peter got a call. He took out his phone and almost had a heart attack when he saw the caller ID.

“Jesus kid, you look like you won a million dollars.”

Peter was breathless. “I…” Peter looked at Adrian and back at the phone in disbelief. “I think I did.”

The caller ID was Barbara’s. peter had no idea how he was going to answer it, his mind was swimming and couldn’t, he felt that if he answered he’d be struggling to form a sentence. He felt that he’d fudge up a few words and say something stupid and Barbara would call him a loser.

He pressed the answer button.

“H-Hey Barbara,” Peter said. His body felt like it was burning, for some reason he was sweating. God damn it Parker, Peter thought. You’re such a loser.

“Hi, Pete,” Barbara said. “I got your message. Sorry for not calling you sooner, I’ve been busy.”

“I-It’s alright,” Peter said. He turned to see Adrian with a big grin on his face, smooching the air. Peter wanted nothing more than to tell him shut it but he knew if he whispered something, Barbara would probably pick it up.

“Look I’m…”

“Sorry for not replying sooner,” Barbara said.

“I uh, wanted to apologise first,” Peter said. “I mean we… I mean I.” Peter cleared his throat. “I made this plan and then I bailed like an idiot. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Barbara said. “I understand Pete. Believe me when I say I know a thing or two about bossy managers.”

Peter chuckled. “Bet your boss has nothing on mine.”

“You’d be surprised,” Barbara said.

There was a short silence, what was only a second felt like hours to Peter. Peter was about to say something but Barbara beat him to the punch.

“I’m still down,” Barbara said. “For a date.”

Peter was quiet for a moment. And then realisation set on him.

“A DATE?” Peter said, a little too loud.

“That is what you said it was,” Barbara said. “Unless you meant otherwise?”

“No, no,” Peter said, a little too suddenly. “It’s uh… it’s a date.”

“Cool,” Barbara said. “How about next week? On a Saturday night.”

Peter nodded and then stopped himself realising that he was speaking on a smartphone. “Yeah. Totally. 100 percent.”

“That sounded sarcastic,” Barbara said.

“Yeah,” Peter said. The fact that it was a date still hadn’t crossed his mind yet, or maybe it had. Peter didn’t know, his head was in the clouds. “I mean no, no. It wasn’t sarcastic.”

Barbara giggled again, the sound of which made Peter’s heart skip a beat. “You sound really cute when you’re nervous.” There was a pause. “See you next week?”

Peter nodded then internally face-palmed. “Yep, see you next week.”

Barbara hung up. Peter was grinning like a peacock. Can peacock’s even grin? Peter didn’t know and he didn’t care. He was going on a date with Barbara Gordon. He was about to speak to Adrian’s when he felt someone slap his back. Very hard.

“Mr. Parker here has a date,” Adrian said, an even bigger grin on his face. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Shut up,” Peter stammered. “It’s not that huge.”

Adrian grinned. “Sure, sure.” He walked over to his stove, shuffling through his shelf. “You want some coffee before you head for your job?”

Peter’s head was in the clouds that he forgot about the fact that he had a job cleaning up mouldy slushie remains on the McDonalds restaurant floor.

“Is it expired.”

Adrian turned the box around and squinted. “By a day. Just bought it too.”

Peter sat down on a chair and looked around Adrian’s messy home. It may have been shabby and run-down but part of Peter found it very simple and quaint. When he grew up, he’d love to live in a hut or something, spending most of his time building things. And speaking of building things.

“What’s underneath that sheet?” Peter said, turning his head to a green sheet surrounded by wires and a tangle of electrical tools. The machine or whatever it was, was fully covered almost as if it was underneath a veil. Whatever it was, it was the size of a large bookshelf and took up most of the room corner.

“Don’t touch it,” Adrian said quickly. “It’s dangerous.”

“Wasn’t going to,” Peter said, peering at it curiously. “What is it?”

“Just something my daughter wanted me to build ages ago,” Adrian said. “Still working on it though.”

Adrian walked over to Peter carrying two mugs of coffee. He gave one to Peter before sitting down across him.

“But forget about that,” Adrian said. “Let’s talk about your date.”

“It’s not a date.”

Adrian scoffed, taking a sip from his coffee. “That’s not what I heard.” He leaned forward. “And my ears never lie.”

Peter sighed and then shrugged. “It’s a date, so what?”

Adrian put his mug on the table. “Besides hearing the big d-word, I also heard a lot of uhs and ums. That’s not going to fly, Pete let me tell you.”

“That’s just how I talk,” Peter said defensively. “I mean come on, not a big deal.”

Adrian shook his head. “No, no Peter. It _is_ a big deal. When you’re on a date you gotta cut all these filler words. No man stole a girl’s heart by saying uh and um.”

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“First thing’s first,” Adrian said. “Back straight. Good posture shows you’re more assertive. Second if you’re going somewhere fancy order the fanciest drink there, shows you’re sophisticated. Lastly cut out all those uhs of yours. Never, ever say “I think”. Girls want a guy who knows what he wants.”

“And how do you know all that?” Peter asked. “You don’t speak for Barbara.”

“How dare you, Peter?” Adrian said, grinning. “I was like you when I was your age. A typical old wallflower. Hell, I still was when I was in college. My eyes were focused on books instead of girls.” There was a smile on Adrian’s face as he started getting lost in his memory, his face had a bright glow to. For a moment he looked as if he was a teenager again. “But Peter, there was this one girl.” He smiled. “This one pretty brunette with the prettiest smile and nicest legs I ever saw. Whenever I talked to her I used to fumble all my words, sometimes felt like my heart was jumping outta my chest. Could barely hold a conversation with her, let alone say hi. Then one day my best friend, McCoy set up a date for me and gave me this bit of advice. He told me ‘Adrian, get a haircut, keep your back straight and please for the love of god stop talking like you’re about to get a seizure.’ I did all that but by god I was fumbling. It was all just icebreakers and short conversations with too long a pause in between them. That was until I brought up a book, some sci-fi book that she had read too and it was smooth sailing from there.”

Adrian chuckled. “After that, well you’ve seen the picture on my desk.”

Adrian was absolutely beaming, his eyes were bright and Peter could tell he was faraway, thinking about his wife and all the happy memories.

“W-what happened?” Peter asked, though he couldn’t bring himself to ask. “If you don’t mind me asking. What happened to your wife and kids?”

The happiness in Adrian’s face disappeared and Peter immediately felt guilty. Stupid Peter, why did he have to be so nosy?

“Look, I’m sorry,” Peter said quickly. “I didn’t mean to prey, I shouldn’t have…”

Adrian shook his head. “No, no it isn’t your fault. Don’t worry about it, Pete.”

There was an awkward pause and Peter wanted to apologise so, so badly. He was just about to when…

“We split up,” Adrian said, letting out a sigh, unable to meet Peter’s eyes. “She took the kid and…” Adrian scratched his head, messing what little hair there was on it. “Sometimes things don’t work out. Got way too caught up in my work that I barely got to see her. Sometimes, I…” He clenched his fist. “Snapped at her. Was stressed you see? Shouted my daughter once too and things just...” Adrian cleared his throat. “They fell apart, you see?”

There was a silence. A silence that looked like it weighed on Adrian as he sat with his shoulders hunched over and a distant look on his face.

Adrian cleared his throat and smiled. “But things like this happen all the time. Lost my job not long after and here I am now.”

Peter didn’t know what to say, he felt awful for bringing this up but he didn’t know how to apologise.

“Anyway, shouldn’t you be going for that job of yours?” Adrian said. “Won’t you be late?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, his voice trailing off.

“And Pete, a word of advice,” Adrian said. Peter stopped at the door and turned around. “No job is worth ignoring your family over. People running those companies, they don’t care about what happens to you. You can work your ass off and they’ll fire you to save costs. Your family though, your family is forever Pete. They’re the only ones who’ll ever give a damn.”

Peter nodded, taking that advice fully to heart. Peter would work extra hard today to make sure Aunt May got the medicine she needed.

“Now head on off to your job,” Adrian said. “You got no time to be wasting here.”

“Yeah.”

“And Pete,” Adrian said. “I said this before and I said it again, don’t come back here. It’s dangerous around these parts. I lost one family, don’t want to lose another one.”

Peter was dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe Adrian thought of him as family. He was so taken aback that he almost didn’t hear what else he had to say.

“Thanks a lot Pete,” Adrian said, grinning. “Hopefully I’ll get to see you around.”

Peter left the shack. Adrian made sure the kid had disappeared before turning to the green cover. He removed the cover revealing a pair of sleek silver wings that took up most of the corner.

The Spider-Brat did a number on those wings and if it wasn’t for old pointy ears and his co He bashed his fist against the desk, letting out a scream. Now, these wings

He turned his face, looking at the photo of his daughter and wife beaming at him. A reminder of a bygone era.

Adrian turned back and picked up a wrench, prying away the battery from the back of the wings. The picture of his wife’s smile and daughter’s pretty face being the fuel that ran through his muscles. He’ll get his vengeance and nothing, not even those broken wings, would get in the way. He’d make sure of that, one way or another.

…

They were like a production line, the Ace Chemicals cleaners as they were called around these parts. They were in charge with emptying the defective batches into the river, spilling out the pollution and filth into the lake where it would go into the ocean and kill all the fish. It wasn’t an honest job and it didn’t pay well but at the end of the day the only thing that mattered was that it paid.

Tom Marsh worked in this plant for fifteen whole years and he had the bleaches on his skin to show it. In those fifteen years to keep his head down and ask no questions. Those helped him keep his job for fifteen years, pay his kids’ school fees and pay the bills. It also stopped him from disappearing.

It was never wise to show you knew a lot in Ace Chemicals. The more you knew, the more likely you’d disappear.

And Tom Marsh. Tom Marsh knew a lot.

They were emptying out the cancer of ace chemicals into the river when one of his buddies Frank called him.

“Marsh,” Frank said. “Some Union guy’s calling you, says he wants to interview you.”

That was a surprise to Tom. Fifteen years working here, nobody asked about him. Whether it be a health and safety worker or some guy from a Union, Frank rarely had the presence to attract those folks in suits. He kept his head down for a reason.

“What’re you waiting for, Tom?” Frank said. “Get a move on.”

Tom walked through the rumbling hallways of Ace Chemicals. In the distance there was the clink of metals and the sizzling of chemicals. The hallways were claustrophobic and winding, the green of the various rooms reflecting off the concrete hallways like radioactive waste.

The Union guy was at the reception office. A pristine area where men and women walked back and forth in clean suits and neat ties. Where the clean white floor reflected the lights above. Where the receptionists flashed pretty smiles to the people that passed by and where Tom felt out of place. Hell, the people who passed by were staring at him like he was alien.

The Union guy also looked out of place. A beige waistcoat over a white formal shirt and black pants. He had a hat that reminded Tom of those old cowboy movies he used to watch and a pair of black glasses.

As soon as he saw Tom, he waved his hand and started walking toward him with a soft smile. There was something about his face that Tom found familiar, a face he saw on TV or something. Tom didn’t really care much. All he was concerned with was getting this interview or whatever the hell it was over with and get back to his job.

“Tom Rogan?” the man asked.

Tom nodded.

The man reached out a hand, Tom shook it.

“My name is Bob,” the man said. “Bob Williams. I’m a safety inspector, I’m here to ask you about working conditions and all that other stuff.”

“I didn’t hear about any safety inspection,” Tom said.

The man smiled. “Neither did I.”

Tom chuckled, letting go of the man’s hand. “Alright Mr. Williams. I’ll show you around this place. Just make sure the suits don’t know about this.”

Bob nodded. “I won’t.”

Tom smiled. “Now we’re on the same page.”

As Tom lead him to the factory, he couldn’t shake just how firm Bob’s handshake had been.

…

The mouldy slushie remains stuck to the hairs of the mop like a parasite. The water had soaked the colour out of the mould turning it into rainbow coloured syrup. Chad and Peter were tasked with cleaning off all this mould from the floor of the restaurant and making the place squeaky clean. Unfortunately for them, much like a spider the sludge stuck to the wall and much like spiderwebs they could be found in each and every corner. Not to mention that the smell was _awful_.

And while Chad and Peter were cleaning up, Troy (who had been snuggling up with Mr. Farook these past few weeks) were busy watching TV and laughing at each other’s jokes.

“Capitalism, man,” Chad said. “We need anarchy dude, anarchy.”

Peter was glad to see Chad back to his normal, conspiracy toting self. It made him feel happy that _something_ he did in his life had done something positive. Peter may have felt like shit cleaning up rotten slushie sludge but he was glad he helped somebody out.

The constant chatter of Vicki Vale was interrupted by a sudden announcement. “Breaking news.”

Peter sighed. Probably something unimportant. He had work to do and he hoped he’d get paid extra for this.

“A man with giant wings has kidnapped Ace Chemicals CEO, Otto Drexar.”

Great, just great.

The face of the news announcer panned out to none other than Big Bird himself attaching four of his “feathers” on the roof of a black car. He pressed a button on his glove and the feathers yanked the roof off the car.

“He couldn’t do that before,” Peter mumbled.

There was the sound of gunfire as the Vulture swerved away from the car, diving in only to grab the men firing at him and tossing them on the road. He grabbed a man wearing a black suit who was clearly scared out of his mind before flying off, launching his feathers directly at the news copter.

The news reporter made mention that if you see anybody with wings flying around to inform the authorities. But Peter knew, Peter knew that the cops would be reduced to mincemeat before they even came a few inches before the Vulture.

Thankfully Peter had his costume underneath and his mask in his bag. He was about to leave until he remembered why he was here.

Aunt May. If she didn’t get the money… she’d… Peter shook his head. He knew May wouldn’t want him to worry about her but at the same time he knew that her job wouldn’t be enough. Peter needed to prove to Mr. Farook that he could work overtime.

But the Vulture. The Vulture would kill so many innocent people. He didn’t know why he wanted Otto Drexar but he knew he couldn’t let the cops handle him alone. And he didn’t know whether Batman and his Bat friends would get there in time.

Peter knew what he had to do.

“Parker,” Mr. Farook said, his voice as still as stone. “Where are you going with your bag?”

“My Aunt called…”

Mr. Farook shook his head. “This is the one-hundredth time you’ve made this excuse Parker. Your Aunt this and your Aunt that. I bought it the first time but you’ve been using it over and over.”

“Look I really need to go.”

“And I really need you to stay, Parker,” Mr. Farook said, crossing his arms. “To clean up the mess that _you_ made.”

“Look I’m sorry,” Peter said, opening the glass doors. “This is really important.”

Mr. Farook slammed the glass door before Peter could leave. “Excuses, excuses excuses. It seems you’re full of them Mr. Parker. You come late to work, it’s because of school. You screw up an order, you were tired. You want to leave early, my Aunt is sick. I thought you wanting overtime was you finally learning some responsibility but no, turns out you just want more money without the work.”

“Look, Mr. Farook,” Peter said. “I really don’t have time for…”

“If you leave,” Mr. Farook said, the fire in his eyes starting to ignite. “You’re fired.”

“That’s unfair,” Peter said, staring him straight in the eyes. “You can’t just fire me for…”

“Oh, I have a reason, Mr. Parker,” Mr. Farook said. “Troy here has been working his ass off, following instructions and all around a perfect employee. Chad may make the bathrooms smell like pot but at least he gets his work done. You, Peter Parker, are way too busy chatting up skirts and using machines you’ve been expressly told not to use instead of doing your work so Mr. Parker, I have a reason, alright. A damn good one.”

Peter clenched his fists. The news reporter constantly kept talking about the Vulture, he could hear sirens wailing in the distance. On the other hand, he thought about Aunt May. He needed this job to take of her. He needed it so badly.

Peter stared at Mr. Farook and then at the TV, at the sirens screaming for help and the gunshots being fired in desperation. He knew what he had to do.

Spider-Man swung across the gothic skyscrapers of Gotham ready to take that big winged bastard back home to Sesame Street.

…

“You happy now, Mr. Williams,” Tom said. “You can tell those folks at the Union all you want about our working conditions but ain’t nothing going to change.”

Bob laughed. “I still have one more question.”

Tom didn’t want to answer one more question. There was something in Bob’s blue eyes that scared Tom. Not that they were empty like those serial killers he saw in those documentaries he watched sometimes. Damn, those were some unsettling eyes. No, there was something else. Something sharp and alert. Intelligence that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying at the same time. Throughout the entire interview there was something robotic about the questions he asked. Not that most safety folk weren’t robots, they were like robots the whole lot of em. His questions were like he was reading from a book. There was a strain when he asked them, like he wanted to do something else rather than ask these questions.

They stopped at the boiler room, the heat making Tom sweat bullets. Atop them was a spider web of catwalks bathed in the red and orange of the fiery vats of chemicals.

“What do you know about the security department?”

“Nothing,” Tom said.

Bob was quiet for a while. “There was a purchase of high-tech weapons from a black-market supplier just a few months ago under a secret account. Tracing those accounts revealed that those weapons were bought by parties right here in Ace Chemicals.”

“Look man,” Tom said. “I don’t know nothing.”

“Really,” Bob asked, raising an eyebrow. “I seem to recall seeing a file that shows that you were in employment right as the Security Department was formed.”

Tom tried keeping a straight face but he could feel his stomach twisting into knots. “Look, man. You’re really bothering me. If you keep asking these questions, I’m going to have to call security.”

“And if I tell them why you called,” Bob said. “You’ll disappear too. Just like Frank, just like Bill and just like Dennis. How do you think your daughter will feel?”

Tom clenched his fist and grit his teeth. “Don’t you dare bring up my daughter or you’ll be going home with a knuckle sandwich, my treat.”

“You don’t want to disappear do you, Tom?” Bob asked. “What’ll happen to your wife, your daughter? Who’s going to take care of them? Who’s going to pay her medical fees, Tom?”

Tom wanted nothing more than to punch this fool for bringing up his wife and kid. Nobody brought up his wife and kid and their situation, not his friends and especially not some asshole claiming to be a safety inspector. And the way he brought it up too. Calm face, no emotion, no pity, nothing. Almost like it was some game to him. Like he didn’t care who he trampled on if he didn’t find his answer.

But Tom was in a pickle. Bob was right, he had the upper hand in this situation. If the higher ups caught wind of the fact that he was talking about the security department, he’d disappear. Just like the rest of them.

Tom sighed and looked up, at the men walking on the catwalks and the lab rats observing the giant vats in their lab coats. Tom always hated the lab rats. All they had to do was scribble down notes in their little papers and they’d get paid enough to pay Tom’s rent for a year. Hell, to pay his daughter’s college fees. All the while folks like Tom, folks like Tom who had blisters all over their body and got cancer getting those mixes in those giant vats, all they get paid is peanuts. Hell, if they knew more than they let on, they disappeared. Their bodies in some ditch somewhere or thrown in the lake, nobody giving a damn.

“Look if I talk, will I be protected?” Tom said. “Will my wife and family be protected?”

Bob nodded. “You have my word.” Tom looked straight in his eyes and the sincerity in them. Maybe it was because he was in a tough spot or not thinking straight but Tom trusted that man.

Tom nodded, hands on his hips. “Alright, I’ll talk.” He scratched the stubble on his chin and chuckled. “I just realised. You’re no safety inspector, safety inspectors don’t ask these types of questions.”

Bob shook his head. “I’m an investigator.”

Tom clicked his tongue. “Figured. Look, I’m going to spill and let me tell you there’s a lot of big names involved. If anything happens to me or my family, I’m going to give them your name and things aren’t going to be pretty.” Tom wiped his forehead. “So, tell me Bob. Is that your real name?”

Bob nodded.

Tom nodded, a little longer than Bob. He shuffled through his pockets pulling out a single stick of cigarette. “Managers don’t allow smoking but I figure since,” Tom chuckled, lighting the cigarette with a shaky hand. “Since I might not be seeing tomorrow, what do I got to lose?”

“Can we start?”

Tom took a swig of his cigarette. “Sure. Let me tell you it’s one hell of a story.”

After Tom’s story Bob left the oppressive factory into the smoggy air of Gotham. He made his way to a 1989 Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith, sitting in the back taking out his hat and coat. The driver started up the car and left behind the looming Ace Chemicals factory in a trail of dust.

“How did your interview go?” Alfred asked. Bruce looked behind at Ace Chemicals, at the smoke choking the air above it and the furnaces jutting through the skies.

“Send an anonymous tip to Gordon about a Bruce Nelson,” Bruce said. “I think I just found out the Joker’s next victim and call Dick. Tell him he should be ready for tonight.”

“Shall I prepare the suit, sir?”

Bruce nodded. “Yes. I think I might pay Mr. Nelson a visit.”

…

They were away from the sirens, away from the buzzing helicopters and twittering pedestrians. Sure a few eyewitnesses may have seen them passing by but it was only a few, he took care of the rest. That would buy the Vulture enough time to tell little Mr. Drexar how he really felt.

They were surrounded by a fortress of buildings jutting out from the ground. The buildings closely packed like friends huddling up for warmth. The Vulture found the perfect building and landed on the rooftop, Drexar writhing like the little worm he was.

They landed on the roof of the building. As soon as Drexar felt his feet touch the ground he started scrambling away, crawling on the floor like a monkey. Before he could even move five feet the Vulture’s wings glowed a bright blue and with a sharp thud a feather landed in front of him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the Vulture said, grabbing his shirt and yanking him around. “Unless you want your body to be mincemeat.”

Drexar’s face was a white as bleach. Sweat poured down his body in massive waves and the Vulture could smell a faint trace of urine in the air. He held out his hand, scrambling backwards.

“W-what do you want?” Otto said, squealing it out like a pig. “Is it money? I have plenty of money. I c-can call some of my friends and we can m-make a deal.”

Vulture chuckled. “You always loved solving your problems with money Drexar.” The Vulture walked over to him, placing a boot on his stomach and pinning him down on the floor. “No, no. I want something a little simpler than that. I want you to remember.”

“R-remember what?”

“Chery and Valeria Toomes.”

“A-Adrian?”

Adrian removed his mask. “The one and only.”

“L-look I’m sorry about what happened to them,” Otto whimpered. “I didn’t know…”

“Didn’t know?” Adrian said, shaking his head. “DIDN’T KNOW?”

The anger and roar of Adrian’s voice made Otto snap his head back, causing him to hit his head against the roof.

“I bet you didn’t know that Valeria’s guts were all over the floor,” Adrian said. “I bet you didn’t know that Chery was 7 months pregnant with a boy. MY BOY!”

“I’m sorry,” Otto said, tears falling down his face. “Please Adrian. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry ain’t going to bring them back,” Adrian said. “Sorry ain’t going to bring McCoy back.”

“Y-you know?”

“Oh yeah, I knew,” Adrian said. “You worked that poor bastard to the bone. Worked him so hard surrounded by all those chemicals that his son was born all blue. And when you were done, you killed him. Took credit for his work, made it look like an accident.”

Adrian smiled. “And I found out. I found out about your little conspiracy so you killed my wife and my kid to make a statement. My wife and kid. Now look at you now. Big shot CEO living in a big ass mansion in the mountains. Must be real nice huh, fucking models and taking crack without a care in the world. No need to worry about the bodies all six feet under to get you that mansion. No need to care about the poor bastards you trampled underfoot.”

“I-I’ll confess,” Otto pleaded. “Please. I-I’ll do anything. Just please leave me alone. Please.” Otto let out a sob, his tears mixed with the mucus pouring out of his nose, bouncing off the floor in little drips.

“Jail is too good for you,” Adrian said, grabbing his hair and pulling him up. “No, I’m not going to throw you in jail.”

He put on his mask and dragged him to the edge of the rooftop. “This building is four stories high. I throw you down, legs first. You won’t die. But the pain.” Adrian let clicked his tongue. “Ooh the pain.”

Otto whimpered.

“After that drop I’m going to pick your ass up and I’m going to take you somewhere real private,” Adrian said. “Real private. And I’m going to hit those broken bones of yours over and over, till you can’t take no more. And I’m not going to kill you. I’m not going to kill you at all. Instead I’m going to leave you in the building, your bones all broken and let the elements do it for you. No, Otto. Killing you is way too easy. I’m going to make you wish you were dead.”

The Vulture flew up, lifting a whining flailing Otto in his arms.

“Keep your hands on your sides, Otto.”

The Vulture let go, Otto screaming and crying like a baby as he fell down the building.

Everything was so perfect. Everything was going according to plan.

And then there was a flash of red.

And an annoying voice.

“The guys at Sesame Street would _not_ like that.”

There was a sudden burst of air as Vulture got punched directly in the stomach flying back at a high speed. If it wasn’t for his wings and the Kevlar, he wore underneath he’d have a bunch of broken bones.

He didn’t care about the brat. He had to get to Drexar. He saw the little weasel scampering around the streets, stumbling past pedestrians who came out of their apartments to see the show.

The Vulture dived but was promptly greeted by a kick to the face.

“ _That_ had to hurt.”

The Vulture made a swift turn launching his feathers directly at Spider-Man but he weaved through them with ease throwing back one of them at Vulture who swerved away from it, skimming past the crowds overhead on the hunt for his prey.

“Oh no you don’t.”

But Spider-Man was on his tail. He jumped from the sides of the building, tackling him against somebody’s window.

The Vulture growled, dodging the flurry of Spider-Man’s punches. He grabbed his sides and flew upwards tossing him on the roof of building.

He could still see Otto scampering amidst the crowd. He hoped he had knocked down the brat long enough to grab the bastard. He was about to take off before feeling something grab his arms and yank them backwards.

“Got you now Big birdie,” Spider-Man said. “Time to get back in your cage.”

Spider-Man turned his back on him and was about to toss him upwards but by flapping his wings, the Vulture sliced through his webs. He was about to make a run for it when Spider-Man leapt and suplexed him back on the ground.

His mind was groggy and so was Spider-Man’s. They both took a while to get up. When their minds cleared, the Vulture’s wings glowed a bright blue and Spider-Man did a backflip, landing in a kneeling position ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

Adrian noticed that Drexar had disappeared. He let out a frustrated sigh before turning to face Spider-Man. Adrian saw that the kid had something new webbed to his back. A red box that looked an awful lot like a lunchbox and seemed very familiar.

“You know, kid?” Vulture said. “You shouldn’t mess with things you don’t understand.”

“My teachers say if I don’t understand I should ask,” Spider-Man said. “So, Mr. Vulture. What are these things you don’t understand?”

Vulture chuckled. “You’re funny kid.”

They were two black metal gloves hanging on both his right and left leg. Vulture put his hands in those gloves. They let out a hiss before tightening around his hands.

“Won’t be funny for much longer.”

“That didn’t answer my question,” Spider-Man said.

“I won’t be answering your questions.”

“Damn you’d make a bad teacher.”

Vulture widened his stance, his wings glowed blue. “Ready for Round Two, kid?”

Spider-Man chuckled. “Bring it on, Big Bird.”

_To be continued…_


	14. Chapter 13

_“This thing started all those years ago,” Tom Marsh said, blowing a cloud of smoke. “Remember when that big meteor struck. Folks were calling it alien and all that. Big media coverage, the usual hoshposh. Few weeks past and everybody forgot about it. You know how folks are. However, the scientists down here found something on that meteor, something that’d make em rich. They were whispers about a new weapon or something. I’m pretty sure you and everybody knows ACE ain’t just dumping chemicals in rivers, they also make weapons. And the higherups saw something big in this. Something very, very big.”_

Who is Jack Napier?

“Napier,” said the man who owned the newspaper shop. Not many people read newspapers nowadays, they had their apps and their smartphones so the man knew everybody that stopped by his shop. Everybody that stopped by to say hello. They were the kids who had parents who were a little older than them, they were old fashioned folks just like him who never got used to the those fancy touch screens and there was the few odd young folk who actually sat down and found the time to read these old fashioned newspapers. Jack Napier was one of them. “Oh, Jack. You talking about Jack. Charming man, that one. Every morning before work he used to come here to pick up a newspaper. Used to complain a lot about his job. Poor man, so skinny, looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.” The man chuckled. “Despite all that, guy sure knew how to make a guy laugh. Used to crack plenty of jokes, made my day. Told me he wanted to be a comedian, make a name for himself on the stage. Had no doubt he’d make it too. Used to tell me he’d be in a big mansion. Him and his wife.” The newspaper vendor looked down. “May god rest her soul.”

“His wife?” the neighbour said. “Oh, Jeannie. Oh, Jeannie was a sweet lady. Used to help out everyone in the neighbourhood without asking for anything. Even when she was pregnant. The girl was weighing her down, making her sweat like a bodybuilder yet she still helped me out with my boy.” Tears started falling down her face. “Never asked for anything Jeannie. Her husband could barely afford the bills yet she still never accepted donations. I even insisted yet she refused. Then the accident, the accident took her away. Her and the baby just… just…” She wiped the tears from her cheek and tried stifling her sobs. “Gone.”

The neighbour could barely mouth the last word.

…

The Vulture’s wings were blue. Before he could fire Spider-Man leapt across the rooftop and tackled him off the building.

“This is kinda romantic don’t you think?” Spider-Man said as they plummeted to the ground.

They traded fists, Spider-Man dodging the Vulture’s feral swipes and Spider-Man’s fists hitting against his mask like a sledgehammer. Vulture did a barrel role, swiping at that lunchbox that was dangling at his side and not quite reaching it. The feathers finally launched, swerving wildly in the air. Spider-Man grabbed Vulture and turned around, the feathers missing them by inches. The feathers sliced through bits of Spider-Man’s suit and even the Vulture’s jacket. There was one lucky feather that sliced through the lunchbox, Spider-Man noticing that attached two webs to either side of the pavement below and kicked the Vulture downwards, using the Vulture’s body to propel himself upwards.

Spider-Man saw the “lunchbox” in mid-air and fired his web at it, attaching it to the walls of a nearby building before being tackled upwards into the air by the Vulture.

“Enjoying your flight?” Vulture asked

“Service here kinda sucks,” Spider-Man said

Spider-Man squirmed out of his tight grip, grabbed his shoulders and flipped over him, diving to the buildings below headfirst. “What kinda flight doesn’t have parachutes?”

Spider-Man felt a familiar buzz. He rolled his body around mid-air and saw the Vulture diving at him, his wings glowing bright blue. Spider-Man launched a web directly at his face causing him to swerve violently upwards.

Spider-Man attached a web to the side of the building and swung across, groups of bystanders gasping in awe and pointing up at him.

“Thank you, thank you,” Spider-Man said, waving down at them. “Have any of you seen an electro-magnet, looks like a lunchbox?”

Spider-Man saw the magnet stuck to the sides of one of the buildings. He was close to grabbing it when he felt his spider sense buzz.

A volley of feathers was headed his way, dancing in the air. Spider-Man danced with them. He dodged them, squirming his way through the dense flock of feathers and inching closer and closer to the magnet. One of the feathers sliced through the webbing that cocooned around the magnet. Spider-Man shot his web. The white string was just inches away from it when he felt something tackle him across the street like a truck.

There was a tangle of limbs as Spider-Man clawed at the Vulture’s mask and the Vulture swiped like a wild animal. Spider-Man’s spider sense was like a fire alarm.

“This… isn’t… how… you… treat… someone… on… a… first… date,” Spider-Man said gritting his teeth. Spider-Man scrambled his hands around the Vulture’s wings and reached for something, anything. He found something sticking out, like a lever.

There was a violent updraft of wind and the Vulture was thrown upwards in the sky. The Vulture’s grip loosened as he was carried upwards by a patchwork parachute. Spider-Man noticed that it was made out of something that looked like old blankets before he tumbled on the ground, making cracks in the pavement.

“And Gotham is always here to welcome me,” he mumbled.

He noticed a few pedestrians walking by, staring at him surprised before moving on with their day.

“Any help?” Spider-Man asked. He was ignored. “Anyone?”

He couldn’t rest yet. His spider-sense started buzzing. He got up just in time to notice the Vulture swooping by. He leaped up in the air before the Vulture could grab a hold of him.

Now the pedestrians were acting up. They started scattering like cockroaches when a light was shined upon them.

Spider-Man realised he had to get to the battery. That was the only way to deal with the wings. The Vulture dived again, this time behind him. Spider-Man backflipped over him. He turned around and fired from his left web shooter.

Only air came out.

…

_“They started experimenting with this weapon,” Tom said. “Started with mice and all that. Dumped them in the lake afterwards. Then they started going bigger, sheep, goats some of the boys even mentioned seeing a cow. When they were done, they dumped those into the lake too. They even tried monkeys but nothing seemed to work and the backers were getting real impatient. They started pushing for human experiments and sure enough ACE folded. Brought in some homeless folk, hell even some normal folk. Promised some money, you see. Those people went in and never came back. People started talking about it, they disappeared. A reporter tried to find out what was happening he disappeared too.” Tom chuckled. “Not something you can throw in a lake.”_

The newspaper man looked out in the distance. “Jack was a different man after Jeannie’s death. Jokes got a little darker too. Walked around like a zombie. Started visiting that bar over at Crime Alley with all the shady folk. Josie’s or whatever. Started gambling too, got into a lotta debt with some bad people. And that’s where Nelson came in.”

“Napier,” Josie said, taking a swig of her cigarette. “Napier, Napier, Napier,” she mumbled to herself. Realisation flashed across her eyes and she pointed her finger in the air. “Oh _Napier._ ” She waved her hand, letting out a hearty laugh. “Oh, that man used to drink himself a storm. Used to walk over to the stage and spit out some lame ass jokes. Used to also play poker at the tables at the back. Must’ve broken a mirror when he was young because boy was he rotten on his luck. Boy racked himself enough debt to cause a heart attack to any sane man though from what I’ve heard Napier was anything but. And remember what I said about luck? Poor bastard racked up debt going in at six figures and he owed all that money to Brute Nelson. Brute fucking Nelson.”

“Back in the day Brute wasn’t someone you wanted to mess with,” the newspaper man said. “Man was built like an elephant. Folks used to say he hit like a sledgehammer and poor old Jack owed him a debt. Unfortunately, Jack couldn’t pay back and Brute, Brute always gets his money.”

“Some of Brute’s contacts found about some top-secret weapon or something like that in ACE chemicals,” Josie said. “There was lot of money in that and Brute knew some people in the black market. But the thing was Brute couldn’t risk sending one of his men, that’d link straight back at him. Brute found out ACE wouldn’t risk anyone escaping and spreading their secret so he needed someone disposable. Someone nobody would bat an eye at if he died, somebody that wouldn’t tie back to him. Somebody like Jack.”

…

Spider-Man pulled up his sleeve and saw a white liquid pouring down his arm. The web shooter had been crushed and the spider tracers were clattering on the road and splitting into a mess of small wires and red casing. Spider-Man had not chance to assess the damage as his spider sense was starting to buzz and he heard the sound of a motor right behind him.

Spider-Man jumped over Vulture as he dived in front of him. But Spider-Man couldn’t catch a break as volleys of metal feathers twirled around him.

“Oh, come on! Not fair.” Spider-Man dodged the feather using his one functioning web shooter to zip past them and relying on the walls of the buildings nearby to bounce around dodging the others. “Can we call a time out? My web shooters are jammed.”

Vulture didn’t let up, as soon as the feathers attached themselves to his wings he went in for another dive. Spider-Man jumped to the side, landing on the roof of a car and using his right web shooter to keep some distance between them. He had to get to the electromagnet, fast.

Vulture dived again, crashing into the side of the building. Spider-Man jumped in a nick of time and twirled in the air covering the giant hole he made in someone’s kitchen with a web.

“C’mon Vulture,” Spider-Man said. “Don’t you have even a tiny shred of dignity? Don’t you want a fair fight?”

Spider-Man scanned the ground for the magnet as Vulture tore through the webbing.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

The Vulture launched feathers and dived without forethought at Spider-Man while he dodged and weaved through the feathers and tried stopping him with as much webbing as possible.

Spider-Man noticed the electromagnet on the ground. Luckily, it was not damaged from all the fighting.

“Big Bird, can you wait a minute?” Spider-Man said. “Gotta get my lunch.”

The Vulture caught on to what Spider-Man was doing and dived for the magnet too.

For a split-second Spider-Man wondered what was going for the magnet. He didn’t know what was in it. Spider-Man’s red gloved hands were the first to reach it before he was tackled across the ground.

The magnet flew in the air. Spider-Man knew that it would break. He noticed a few dents on it before he had grabbed it. He knew it would break if it hit the ground one last time.

But then the Vulture grabbed it in his claws.

“Now what do we have here?” the Vulture said. And even though he had a mask on Spider-Man could still imagine the giant smirk hidden behind it.

…

“That was the last we heard of Jack,” the neighbour said. “There was a ‘present’ for him in the mail. Jack left with the box and we never heard from him again. It’s a shame.”

“How so?” Bruce Wayne disguised as the reporter Bob Williams asked.

“Buried underneath the gambling and drinking was a good man,” the neighbour said, tapping the tissues Bob offered underneath her eyes. “A good man who lost his wife.”

“I don’t remember much that night,” Tom Marsh said, looking up at the web of catwalks and chemical vats. “I just remember this man dressed with a red cylinder on his head getting shot at, holding something in his hand like a baby. I just remember the gunfire and the shouting. Me and some of the boys followed him, we didn’t know what were thinking, maybe we could help the poor bastard. I don’t know. But the last we saw of him, last we heard of him was his screaming as he fell down into the vat of chemicals. After that, security tightened. Everything was kept hush hush, some of the good folk over here went missing. ACE was never the same.”

Tom threw the cigarette stub on the ground, crushing it under his heel. “Look, I’ll get protection, right? My daughter, I don’t want her ending up with a job like mine. I don’t want my wife breaking her back to make her happy. We can barely pay her school fees let alone a good lunch. I… I don’t…”

Bob William placed a firm hand on Tom’s shoulder. “You’ll be safe. Your family will be safe. Here’s what you have to do.”

The Wayne Foundation was chalk full of resources. That afternoon, Tom left work early. Said he was feeling sick. Men from the Wayne Foundation relocated him to a Wayne Family safehouse in the outskirts of Gotham, under the direct command of Lucius Fox and the watchful eye of the Batman.

…

Brute Nelson had a hell of a stomach ache. He owed it to time. Poor old Brian “Brute” Nelson was no longer the monster they knew. His muscles were now flaps of fat, his stomach was so large it spilled over his crotch and his skin was ripe with red patches from all the meth he smoked and the crack he sniffed.

Brute Nelson was a victim of time.

After trying to take a dump, Brute washed his hands. He spent a lot of money on this house, a lot of good money but now it was reduced to a cracked fucking mess with dust on the fancy ass tiles and beer bottles lining the shower. Stupid ass bitch Paulene had to leave him. Paulene used to clean the house and do all her stupid bitch stuff. Too bad she couldn’t take a beating. All that preaching about being a strong woman and she couldn’t even take a beating. Brute was fine without her anyway.

Brute flushed down his shit. For one moment, one small moment he looked at himself in the mirror. All the patches on his skin, his balding head and mess of a beard and thought, if only for one second that maybe he was a loser.

Then his stomach started to ache and he decided maybe he needed another sniff of the good old powder.

He opened his bathroom door.

“We need to talk, Nelson,” said Batman.

Brute was glad he’d taken that dump.

…

“Now what’s this?” Vulture said with a smirk.

“Nothing,” Spider-Man said, turning his head quickly. He couldn’t let Vulture destroy the electromagnet. It was the only way he could deal with him and if he destroyed it Peter didn’t know how many people would pay the price. He noticed a manhole cover. Spider-Man put his hand behind his back. “It’s just a lunchbox. I get hungry on the job.”

The Vulture chuckled. “Now Spider-Man if there’s one thing I don’t like it’s a liar and I want you to answer this honestly. Are you a liar?”

He launched a web, he felt it strike something metal. “Don’t we always lie? To protect the ones we love? I love you Vultchy, didn’t you notice the signs?”

“You’re lying again,” the Vulture said. “Aren’t you, Petey?”

Peter stopped tugging at the manhole cover. He was dumbstruck, how did he know? How the hell did he know? He calmed himself down, shut himself up. Maybe it was just some Gotham slang he didn’t know. Maybe he was spouting off some psychopathic shit. He didn’t know, but better to play it cool. Play it smart.

“Are you okay Vulture?” Spider-Man said. “I’m Spider-Man. Not Petey-Man.”

“Oh, I know who you are Peter Parker,” Vulture said. “You live with your poor old Aunt May down by the AF junkyard. I know that your uncle got shot, I know that you’re from the good old NYC.”

Peter stopped. The worry was eating away at his heart. Please god, please keep Aunt May safe. Please, please, please. How did he know? How the hell did he know?

But he was also angry. Like someone pulling his pants down or throwing open the curtain when he was in the shower. He was humiliated and Peter did not like being humiliated.

“You know what I don’t like Vultchy?” Peter asked. He felt his web tug at the manhole. “When people make it personal. You know what you did Vultchy?”

He tossed the manhole cover at Vulture. He had no time to react as the cover hit him directly in his head making him loosen the grip on the magnet.

“You made it personal.”

The Vulture tried to fly away but Peter was one step ahead of him. He webbed up the magnet, clutching it to his chest and leaped at Vulture.

“Never mention my aunt,” Peter said, punching Vulture in the stomach. “Or my uncle.” He punched Vulture in the face.

He leaped up to the side of a building, attaching a web to the Vulture’s chest and slamming him against the walls of the building before kicking him down to the pavement.

“I’m going to take your wings you little flying bastard,” Peter said. “And I’m going to show the world your ugly little face.”

Peter placed pinned the Vulture down on the ground placing right leg on his foot on his back to keep him there.

“No leave my wings,” The Vulture cried. “Please.”

The electromagnet attached itself on the wings. Peter pressed the button and a surge of electricity spread across the wings. There was bright flash of blue as electricity crackled and surged and circuits sounded like popcorn as they popped. The Vulture screamed in despair as his wings fizzled out of existence. Peter almost felt sorry for him.

He was about to rip off the bastard’s mask when he felt his spider sense and a gunshot ringing in the air.

“Get off him.”

He turned to see an officer pointing his gun at him. His moustache was so bushy it covered his mouth and he had a hell of a potbelly.

“Hey, Officer,” Peter said. “Look I’m just going to unmask this bastard and…”

Another gunshot.

“What you think you can just waltz in here and do our jobs?”

“I mean the Batman does it just fine?”

“The Batman is good with the commissioner,” the officer said. “You ain’t?”

There was now a fleet of police cars. All of them had their guns pointed at him.

“Alright, alright,” Peter said. “I’m out of here.”

The officer smirked. “Oh yes you are, boys fire away. These bastards are the reason we don’t get as paid as much as we used to.”

Peter leaped on the side of the building as gunshots rang in the air. He wanted to know just who the Vulture was, how he knew who he was but he hoped those bastards would deal with him. He didn’t know why they were firing at him and he didn’t care. He just had to make sure Aunt May was safe. He didn’t do much praying but he prayed to whoever was up there that she would be okay, that the Vulture’s cronies didn’t get to her.

…

“Oh, it’s nothing Betty,” the police officer said to the microphone. “It’s just some commotion, the boys and I took care of it.” The officer switched off the microphone.

He turned to the police officers. “And we did take care of it, right boys?”

All his friends started nodding and murmuring in agreement.

“One more of those costumed assholes and we’d be going to bed starving,” the officer said. “As for this poor bozo.”

The Vulture or whatever the news called him was lying headfirst in the pavement, mumbling something to himself.

“Well we can do whatever we want,” the officer said. “Shoot him, kick him, fuck him, hell if I care. The less of these self-righteous costumed freaks the better.”

The officer kneeled down. “I just wonder what’s behind that fancy ass mask of his.”

The officer was about to remove the mask from the man when something found itself buried in his throat. Something sharp.

The Vulture pulled out his feather and the officer’s neck or what was left of it erupted in blood. The officer vomited out his own blood, dribbling down his mouth and throat before falling to the floor. Dead.

“Hey, Bob you okay?”

“No,” Vulture said.

He could feel it, electricity surging through his wings. It was nothing, just a spark. But it was enough.

“Hey Bob, you okay?”

The officer had no time to react as a feather sliced impaled itself through his throat and stuck out at the back of his neck.

The wings were blue. A feint blue, a dying blue. But they were still blue. Electricity hummed through them. Singing a dying tune. A dying tune the feathers danced to.

A dance of blood and gunfire. Of claws and struggles. Of metal and screams. A dance of a bird and its prey.

The police sirens wailed in despair as Adrian Toomes walked away from the corpses of police officers, painted in red.

…

“Honey, I’m home!” The Joker called, the door to Brute Nelson’s house swinging behind him.

“And I can’t wait to show you what I bought you.” The Joker placed his hat and coat on the coat hanger and held his revolver up in the air. “It’s going to knock you dead.” He turned the cylinder with this thumb.

“Oh, come on honey,” Joker said, walking through the shelves stacked with medicine and beer bottles. “Don’t tell me you’re not the least bit curious.”

He kicked open the door to the bathroom. Empty medicine and beer bottles, no Brute.

“Oh, come on honey,” Joker said. “You know I’m not the type for surprises.”

The Joker grinned. “Oh, you’re a kinky one, aren’t you? Please tell me you’re wearing the lingerie I bought you.”

The Joker kicked open the bedroom door. Nobody was there.

“Please don’t tell me you’re in the living room,” Joker said. “You know how much I hate climbing up these god damn stairs.”

The Joker opened the door to the living room. “You know how much I hate them.” He noticed that the living room sofa was turned around and a person sitting on it. “Why they _kill_ me darling.”

The Joker walked to the sofa slowly. Stepping on a bottle on his way there. “Oh, come on Brutey. That one was funny. Why the hell aren’t you laughing?”

Joker turned the chair around and saw Robin, leg resting on his knee, a smirk on his face.

He felt a strong grip behind his head.

“Welcome home, honey,” said a deep voice.

And everything went black.

_To be continued_


	15. Chapter 14

**Gotham City Police Department, Special Holding Cells - 9 PM**

“My stomach,” Brute Nelson said, leaning over the bars of his cell, his right hand clawing out and his left clutching his stomach. “Can somebody help me, please?”

Two officers stopped by his cell, one young, one old. The young one was murmuring something to the older one and was about to open up Brute’s cell when the older one stopped him.

“Please,” Brute murmured, falling to the floor.

“C’mon Steve,” the younger officer said. “Poor bastard looks like he’s in pain.”

Steve scoffed. “Damn, Alex you can be really naïve sometimes. These bastards tend to fake it sometimes. Hell, I’m pretty sure he has a shiv.”

“Officer, please,” Brute said, tears down his eyes. “It hurts.”

Steve chuckled. “Oh yeah, I’m sure it does. I’m sure it hurts as much as those folks’ families. You know the one’s you pushed to suicide. Hell, I’m sure it hurts as much as your wife.”

Steve kneeled down and stared at Brute’s bloodshot eyes. “She had three of her teeth missing, Brute. Three. Don’t talk to me about shit hurting, Nelson. Specially after all the hurt you caused.”

Steve slammed his hands against the bars of Brute Nelson’s cell before walking off. Alex stared at Brute, kneeling over his face green. Stared at him with pity.

“C’mon Alex,” Steve said, calling after him. “We gotta check out that clown. Commissioner’s orders.”

Alex left Brute Nelson behind as he threw up all over his cell.

…

**Gotham City Police Department, Interrogation Room- 10 PM**

The Joker was calm.

For a man behind bars there was no panic, no fear or regret in his face. Just ice-cold calmness. He was dressed in the bright orange waistcoat of a prison outfit. The make-up was washed out of his but it didn’t make much of a difference. His face was just as pale as the powder he used and littered with blisters, his mouth was stretched out in a permanent grin and try as they might they couldn’t remove the green dye in his hair.

“What did you find?” Batman asked as Commissioner Gordon entered the room holding plastic bags.

“A lot, actually,” Gordon said. “The boys couldn’t track the tailor of the suit, turns out it’s homemade. The gun is custom made too. Guy burned out his finger prints so no definitive proof he is who you say he is. Blood tests come out blank.”

Commissioner Gordon pulled out a cigarette. “Guy’s a ghost. Nothing points to him being Napier. Nothing at all.”

“No,” Batman said. “That can’t be true. Only Jack would have both the motive to go after the known victims. It doesn’t make any sense for him to be anyone else. Even Two-Face kills for a reason.”

Gordon shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe this guy doesn’t want to be identified. Maybe he just wants to kill for no reason. This is Gotham we’re talking about.”

The Batman was silent.

Time passed, police officers coming in and out of the special cell the Joker was put in. Drinking coffee, taunting the bastard. Police officers came and went but the Batman remained.

At 11 P.M, Robin came in with Commissioner Gordon.

“You’re still here?” Robin asked. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

Throughout the hour, the Joker remained still. Not talking. But at 11 P.M the Joker broke his self-imposed silence.

“There’s a bomb in this building.”

…

**West Street 7:30 P.M**

“Please pick up,” Peter mumbled to himself as the phone dialled Aunt May’s number. “Please, please pick up.”

“Peter?” Aunt May’s voice said at the other side. Peter let out a relieved sigh.

“Hey Aunt May,” Peter said. “Are you alright? Did anything happen?”

“I’m fine Peter,” Aunt May said. “But where are you? Aren’t you running late for the curfew?”

“I’m on my…”

Peter’s sentence was interrupted when he was walking by an electronic store and he saw a news bulletin about the Joker being captured.

“I’m at Bruce Wayne’s house. For a… for a sleepover.”

“Peter Parker you…”

Peter closed his eyes feeling guilty he had to lie. “Yeah, yeah I know. But the Waynes aren’t as bad as you think they are. Besides Mr. Wayne upped security so I’ll be fine.”

“If anything happens…”

“I’ll be fine May,” Peter said. “I’m fifteen, I can take care of myself.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Aunt May sighed. “Be sure to brush your teeth, Peter.”

“I will.”

“And don’t take anything Bruce Wayne offers you,” Aunt May said. “You know how those millionaires are.”

“I won’t.”

“Goodbye Peter,” Aunt May said. “Be sure to call.”

“Sure, sure,” Peter said. “Love you Aunt May.”

Peter put his phone back and hoped one web shooter was enough to take care of the Joker.

…

**The Parker Apartment- 7:35 P.M**

Just to make sure he was there safely, Aunt May decided to call the Wayne Manor. She found their number in the phonebook just fine and dialled.

It was a few minutes before the person on the other end of the line picked up.

“Mr. Wayne isn’t available at this time to answer your call,” said a smooth British voice. “Please call again later.”

“I’m not here for Mr. Wayne,” May said. “I’m here to ask about my nephew, Peter.”

“Peter Parker?” asked the voice.

“Yes,” May said. “He’s at the manor on a sleepover. I’m wondering if I can check up on him.”

There was a pause that made Aunt May’ stomach churn. What if Peter wasn’t there? What if Peter lied to him about going to that billionaire’s manor and was instead busy picking fights on the streets?

“I’m afraid Master Parker can’t answer right now,” Alfred said. “Him and Master Richard are engaged in an intense match of Town Fighter and I’m afraid Master Richard does not want any disturbances. I can tell him you called though.”

“Please do,” Aunt May said. “And tell him to brush his teeth.”

“I will Mrs. Parker,” Alfred said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to clean up after Master Wayne. If I don’t, who will?”

May laughed at that. “Tell me about it. Thank you, Mr…”

“Pennysworth,” Alfred said. “But you can call me Alfred.”

…

**Outside the Gotham City Police Department- 8:10 P.M**

The sirens of the GCPD police fleet following the Batmobile screeched to a halt as the Batmobile.

The door to the Batmobile opened and the Joker was yanked out of it by Batman. His hands and legs tightly cuffed. The lights danced across the brick walls of the GCPD Precinct.

“This isn’t my first time in a police precinct,” Joker said. “My oh my how things never change.”

“Shut up,” Batman said.

“I wonder how much of this is built on bribes,” Joker said, turning to a police officer. “Do you pay with your wife’s clothes with bribes?”

“My wife’s dead asshole,” the officer said. “You killed her, bastard.”

“Oh wow,” Joker said. “Small world, isn’t it?”

The officer yelled before Gordon placed a hand on his shoulder. “At ease officer.”

As they were about to enter the GCPD building there was a thud as Spider-Man perched on top of the walls.

“Hey everyone,” Spider-Man said, waving at the police who all pointed their guns at him.

Spider-Man sighed. “Again, with the guns. What do I have to do to make y’all trust me? Should my ears be pointy?”

“Give us one good reason we shouldn’t shoot?” said one of the officers.

“Hello,” Spider-Man said. “I’ve been doing your jobs for you. How many losers do I gotta web up before you realise, I’m on your side?”

The Spider-Man put up his index fingers and placed them by his ears. “Are my ears pointy enough? Can you trust me now?”

Batman was annoyed by the whole interaction. “He’s with me.”

“You sure, boss?” said one of the officers.

“Yes.”

“Aww shucks, Bats,” Spider-Man said. “You hear that boys.” Spider-Man said, landing between the officers who still had their guns pointed at him. “I’m with him.”

“The name’s Spider-Man,” Spider-Man said. “Don’t forget the hyphen.”

“You sure about this?” Robin asked.

Batman nodded. “I want him to see what this job is about. That it’s not all a joke.”

“Who’s this tool?” Joker asked.

“Shut up,” Batman said. “Start walking.”

The Joker sighed. “Fine. Just loosen the grip will ya?”

…

**Gotham City Police Department Interrogation Room- 11:00 PM**

Robin and Gordon stirred as Batman sat across the Joker in the interrogation room.

“Tell me one good reason I should believe you,” Batman said.

“Cause if you don’t a lotta of innocent people will be innocent chunks of meat,” the Joker said.

“You could be lying.”

“I’m a man of my word, Batman,” Joker said. “You saw what happened to poor old Claridge and Wilde. Oh, speaking of Claridge and Wilde. There’s not only one bomb but two, for the both of them.”

The Batman grabbed Joker by his collars, yanking him across the table. “Tell me where they are,” he growled.

The Joker laughed. “All this violence, maybe you should just relax.”

Batman threw him across the room. “I bet you’ll be really relaxed when I break every single bone in your body.”

The Joker raised his hand in surrender. “Ok, ok but start with the hands first. I’m going to need my legs when this place goes up in flames.”

Batman stepped on Joker’s legs. There was a sickening snap but the Joker just laughed.

“Oh, come on,” Joker said. “Live long enough with the pain and you get used to it. You should know, you dress up as a Bat.”

Batman punched Joker across the face. Joker spat out a tooth but still remained unfazed. Blood poured down his mouth but the Joker laughed.

“You won’t be getting anything out of me,” Joker said. “With all the blood in my mouth I’ll be choking on my own words.”

Batman backed off. “Gordon search the precinct for the bombs, make sure nobody knows there is one. We can’t afford a panic. Robin get Spider-Man, his abilities might prove useful.”

“What about you?” Robin asked.

Batman cracked his knuckles. “I’ll be here. Some one on one time will do nicely.”

The Joker coughed out blood and grinned. “Couldn’t have it any other way.”

…

**Gotham City Police Department- 11:15 PM**

No one heard the beeping. No one heard the clock count down.

In the bowels of the GCPD building a clock counted down 45 minutes.

…

**Gotham City Police Department Offices- 11:20 PM**

“Hey tights,” Robin said. “I could really use your help.”

Robin grabbed Spider-Man’s shoulder and dragged him in the bathrooms.

“Hey hands off the goods,” Spider-Man said. “This suit cost me a fortune you know?”

“Look tights this isn’t a game,” Robin said. “Joker told us there’s two bombs and we can’t afford to play around.”

“You trust that clown?”

“No,” Robin said. “But after years of dealing with maniacs like Two-Face and the Penguin you realise that it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Alright Batboy,” Spider-Man said. “You have me convinced, where do you think we should start?”

“The offices,” Robin said. “Work ourselves down from there. Gordon’s busy checking the bottom floors. Just don’t say anything about the bomb out loud. We can’t afford to cause a panic.”

Spider-Man nodded. “Okay boss.”

They left the bathroom into the crowded GCPD building.

“You know what would be great?” Spider-Man said.

“What?”

“If Batgirl was here,” Spider-Man said. “She’s really hot.”

“Focus, tights,” Robin said.

“Where is she anyway?” Spider-Man said.

“She couldn’t make it tights.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a long story.”

…

**Underneath the Wayne Manor- 5:00 PM**

“You’re off this mission.”

“What?” Barbara said. “You’re joking, Bruce.”

“No, I’m not,” Bruce said. “The Joker has a tendency to manipulate and you’re a prime target.”

“So, you’re saying I’m stupid, is that it?”

Bruce shook his head. “I’m saying that if the Joker pulls at the right strings, he’ll make you act irrationally.”

“Long story short, you’re saying I’m stupid.”

Dick stepped by Bruce’s side. “Bruce is right Babs, just sit this one out.”

“Not you too,” Barbara muttered underneath her breath.

“The Joker is dangerous,” Dick said.

“So is Two-Face,” Batgirl said. “So is Penguin yet I don’t remember you guys benching me.”

“The Joker is a different kind of dangerous…”

“You can say that about any other crook in Got…”

“You know how many people that clown kill…”

“So, what, I can handle myself Dick. Bruce trained me, he trained you…”

“Training doesn’t…”

“Shut up,” Bruce said and the both shut up. He turned to Barbara.

“Why do you want to come?”

“We’ve been over this Bruce,” Barbara said. “Those officers they were like family to me and now that we almost got the bastard, I want to see him…” Barbara stopped. “See him…”

“See him what Barbara?” Bruce asked.

She clenched her fist. “I… I don’t know. That still doesn’t mean…”

“The Joker knows his enemies more than they know him,” Bruce said. “Once he goes in your head there’s no way out. And I can’t have you near him. It’s too risky. Do you understand?”

Barbara sighed. “Fine.”

Bruce put on his cowl and entered the Batmobile. Dick put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. God, she hated that damn smile.

“We’ll make sure that clown gets what’s coming to him,” Dick said. “You don’t have to worry.”

Barbara smiled. “I’m not worried.”

“Course you aren’t.”

“It seems to me you were doing the worrying,” Barbara said. “’He’s too dangerous Barbara’ and did I just hear you say ‘Bruce is right.’”

“Okay, now you’re stretching it.”

“Bruce is right,” Barbara said. “Ladies and gentleman Richard Grayson just admitted Bruce is right.”

Dick sighed. “I’m never going to hear the end of that one.”

The Batmobile left. When Barbara was sure they had disappeared, she took out her keys and hopped on her motorcycle. There was no way she was letting Bruce keep her on the side-lines for this case. Especially this case.

She started the engine. The engine revved for a few seconds and then died out. She started the engine again and it let out coughed out a sound and then died out again.

What the hell was going on? She had just repaired her bike. There was no way in hell it wasn’t working now.

She opened up the engine and was greeted by a cloud of smoke that made her erupt in a fit of coughing. She closed up the engine. Just then Alfred walked into the garage.

“Ms. Gordon,” Alfred said, holding a tray in one hand. “I brought in some tea and a chessboard.”

“Thanks Alfred but I’m about to be leaving soon.”

“On the motorcycle?” Alfred asked. “I regret to inform you abut Master Bruce made some ‘adjustments’ so to speak. Your motorcycle won’t be ready until after a few days.”

Barbara slammed her fist against the side of the bike. “Damn you, Bruce.”

“I also bought in some chocolate cake as a side,” Alfred said. “Hope you don’t mind.”

…

**Gotham City Police Department Offices- 11:30 PM**

He had searched the building from top to bottom. Northing. He’d gone through the basement, the evidence room, the lockers and still he hadn’t found any sign of the bomb.

He was getting nervous. Batman hadn’t called him and the kid didn’t mention finding anything and if the Joker’s previous murders were anything to go by, he had 30 more minutes before the bomb exploded and there was no way in hell he was going to let that happen. Not after seeing the faces of those families he had to visit after the Wilde incident.

Which was funny. His wife and him, whenever they had an argument (when Barbara was sleeping of course but even the Commissioner knew that girl was too smart for either of them to keep up) she’d always cry about just how worried she was. How scared she was of seeing him in a body bag and yeah, she was right to worry. Harvey had come dangerously close to offing them both and Gordon was on the hitlists of many of Gotham’s most criminally insane. He spent long hours in the office drinking or smoking, burying himself in his work. His wife was right to worry.

But when he was reassigned in this shitty city. When he was about as hopeless as any miserable asshole who lived here that this city had another chance, that this city had any hope of improving. And then _he_ came in and Gordon realised that this city had hope. And no matter the cost, Gordon would fight to preserve it.

For some reason or another, Gordon found himself in his office. The Commissioner’s Office. And on his table, he found a package wrapped in brown paper, a package the size of a box.

He didn’t remember getting any packages. He didn’t remember ordering anything.

“I found the bomb,” Gordon said into his headset.

…

**Interrogation Room- 11:35 PM**

“Where’s the other bomb?”

“You’re friends with Gordon, aren’t you?” Joker asked. “Why?”

“My friendships are none of your concern,” Batman said. “What you should be concerned about is yourself if you don’t tell me where the bomb is?”

“Jimbo by the book Gordon,” Joker said. “So very very different from the rule breaker Batman.”

“The bomb,” Batman said, pulling the Joker up by his hair. “Where is it?”

The Joker smiled, staring directly at Batman’s eyes. “What happened to you? What did _they_ take away from you?”

Gun smoke. Tears in his mouth. Pearls clattering on the floor. Blood on his hands.

“None of your business,” Batman said, pushing Joker aside. Trying to block the memory from his head and focus on the task at hand.

“Oh, it is,” Joker said. “You see aside from the rules, I think me and you are not so different.”

…

**Gordon’s Office- 11:45 PM**

“Batman,” Gordon said. The packaging was torn on the floor, a mess of tape and paper scattered around his officer. “Are you there?”

It was a present. Shaped exactly like a giftbox, red bow tie and purple wrapping. If it wasn’t for the feint beeping countdown, Gordon would have laughed.

“Did you find the bomb?” Batman asked.

“Yeah, gift wrapped,” Gordon said.

“Open it.”

Gordon opened it and was greeted by a black block with multicoloured wires snaking through it and fifteen minutes counting down. Gordon saw some characters on the wires, upon closer inspection it said cut me. The words cut me were written on all the wires.

“Ask the bastard which one I have to cut.”

…

**Holding Cells- 11:30 PM**

It started buzzing.

The criminals called at them, jeering and sneering. Spider-Man thought it was just that, it was going off at the danger that was all around him.

But the deeper he went through the cells, the more the buzzing.

“Robin, wait up.”

_15_

“What’s up?” Robin asked.

“I uh, I have this sense hat warns me when there’s danger nearby.”

“We are surrounded by a bunch of criminals.”

Spider-Man nodded. “Yeah I know and there was dull buzz.”

“Buzz?”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man said. “But now it’s getting louder.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I think the bomb’s here.”

…

**Interrogation Room- 11:46 PM**

_14_

“We’re not the same.”

“Oh, don’t be in denial,” Joker said. “It’s unhealthy. The world made us what we are, Batman. Something happened that spiralled your life way out of control that you dress up as a bat to regain some sense of control.”

“So, this is what it’s about,” Batman said. “Control?”

The Joker laughed. “Quite the opposite in fact. It’s about chaos.”

…

**Gordon’s Office- 11:47 PM**

_13_

“Which wire is it?” Gordon asked, almost spitting into the microphone.

The clock counted down, making Gordon’s heart leap out of his chest. He grabbed a cigarette and had a morbid thought.

Maybe tonight will be the night his wife sees him in a body bag.

…

**Holding Cells- 11:48 PM**

_12_

“Look we don’t have time to rely on your sixth sense,” Dick said. “So, we’ve got to make sure about this.”

“It’s going off,” Spider-Man said. “It’s really wild.”

“No, we’ve just got to look around,” Spider-Man said. “It should be here somewhere.”

_11_

And then they heard it.

“Guys,” Brute Nelson said, his clothes stained with vomit. “You’ve gotta… You’ve gotta help me out.”

…

**Interrogation Room- 11:50 PM**

_10_

“I realised a long time ago that the world doesn’t make sense,” Joker said. “That they are no rules. Everything is random. Nothing happens for a reason. There’s nothing you can control.”

“Which wire is it?”

The Joker scowled. “Can I have my moment?” Joker sighed. “The yellow one.”

_9_

“It’s the yellow one,” Batman said. “If I find out you’re lying to me you’ll be…”

“Dead,” Joker laughed. “That’s where I’m getting at. Everybody knows you don’t kill, even my uncle and he has dementia. And we know why you do it. Control.”

…

**Gordon’s Office- 11:52 PM**

_8_

Gordon’s hands were shaking as he cut the wire.

The scissor snipped and the beeping stopped.

Gordon let out a relieved sigh. He was about to leave the office when the beeping started again.

_7_

And this time he only had 10 seconds.

…

**Interrogation Room- 11:53 PM**

“Where’s the second bomb?”

The Joker smiled. “I want to know if you’re just like the rest. That when the chips are down. That when the opportunity arises, you’ll let me die and you’ll think to yourself maybe I wasn’t in control at that moment. That after all the song and dance about not killing, you’ll let scum like me die.”

Batman stepped on the Joker’s second leg with the force of a sledgehammer yet the Joker still laughed.

_6_

“You know what I think?” Batman asked, kneeling down and staring him in the eyes.

“What?”

“All this talk about control, about losing control,” Batman said. “All of this talk is just because of your wife’s death. You couldn’t control that. Could you, Napier? The world stopped making sense after Jeannie died.”

The Joker looked confused. And then he smiled.

And then he started laughing.

…

**Holding Cells- 11:55 PM**

_5_

“You can’t be serious?” Spider-Man said, he’s voice shaking. “A- A human bomb.”

“We’ve got to get everyone out of here,” Robin said.

“H-How?” Spider-Man asked. “How can someone be so…?”

“Look we’ve got no time to think about that asshole,” Robin said. “Right now, we’ve got to get everyone out of here.”

“But we can’t just let him…”

“Look Peter,” Robin said, hands on his shoulders. “We’ll find out how to disable it later. Right now, we’ve got to get these people out of here.”

“How do you…?”

“LATER,” Robin shouted. “Web up Nelson’s cell, maybe we can slow down the explosion. Can you do that for me, Peter?”

Peter nodded.

_4_

“Good,” Robin said. “Now let me get everyone out of here.”

Peter stared at Brute Nelson, at his pale face and drooping eyes. At his slouching body and skeletal cheeks. He looked like a zombie.

“Please,” he muttered weakly. “Please get me out of here… get me some… medicine.”

Brute Nelson collapsed. Peter had to fight a wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him as he webbed up Brute’s cell with his one functioning web shooter.

…

**Interrogation Room- 11:57 PM.**

_3_

“You… you honestly think I’m Jack Napier,” Joker laughed. He stopped laughing, then looked at Batman’s dead serious face and started laughing again. “Oh my, I haven’t laughed this hard in so damn long.”

“That’s the only way your murders make sense,” Batman said. “Only Napier would want, Claridge, Wilde and Nelson dead.

The Joker stopped laughing. “Oh Batsy, Batsy, Batsy. You and I should both know by now….”

_2_

“Nothing when it comes to me make sense.”

…

**Gotham City Police Department- 11:59 PM**

_“I’ll let you on a little secret Bats,” Joker said. “Two little secrets.”_

Gordon ran out of the room. Much to his surprise there was no explosion.

He opened his office door and there was a head bobbling. The face of a sneering clown bouncing up and down.

Up and down.

Up and down.

_“The next victim is Judge Dredd, Herman Dredd,” Joker said. “You might know him as the asshole in a wig presiding over ‘Napier’s’ case…”_

“But they’re still people,” Robin said. “We can’t just let them die.”

The iron gates closed in on the prison cells, an emergency lockdown siren wailed through the air. Screaming. Officer’s made their way out of the holding cells.

“I’m sorry kid,” the warden said. “It’s the only way we can contain that bomb you’re talking about.”

Robin sighed. His hand felt like lead as he lifted it up to his ear. “Peter, get out of there. They’re locking the place up.

He was only greeted by silence.

_“And second,” Joker said. “Check the Crime Alley junkyard. Look for the old rotted out Mustang. I’m sure what you find there will be interesting to say the least.”_

Peter ran and ran.

He could hear their cries as the red lights flashed. They were so desperate, so scared.

His spider-sense was going off like an explosion. It was buzzing so loud yet Peter could still hear their desperate pleas.

He ran past the hands, avoiding them like they were snakes. He had to fight, fight the urge to break open their cells and let them out. Oh god, he had to fight.

The last thing he heard before the iron gates closed was “Please I have a family,” As he leaped out of the iron hold, the guilt threatening to overwhelm him.

_“As for the bomb,” Joker said. “It’s real close, Batsy. Very close. If you can stomach it.”_

Peter was on his knees when he heard the explosion in the holding cells. Heard their screams and their cries.

Oh god, it’s all my fault, was what he could think. I could have saved them. I could have saved them all.

Robin knelt down, hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Hey Pete, you okay? Pete?”

_1_

Peter’s spider-sense started buzzing as the bomb shook the building.

 **Interrogation Room** – **00:00 AM**

“The bomb in Gordon’s office wasn’t a bomb.”

The Joker smiled. “This one is.”

The walls were reduced to rubble as the Batman was launched forward. The Joker let out a laugh as flames licked the edges of the Interrogation Room, threatening to consume it all. The Joker blew a kiss at Batman as he walked out of what remained of the room, laughing all the while.

**Holding Cells- 00:01 PM**

The iron gate lurched forward as Peter pushed Robin and ducked down. He heard the sprinklers go off, water trickling down on the both of them. Peter got up. Two GCPD officers had been knocked out by the sudden violent lurch of the gate but it wasn’t anything fatal. The rest of the officers had all ducked or found cover so they were all fine.

Peter turned around, hoping that maybe someone survived.

Only to see rubble everywhere.

Rubble and blood.

And bodies.

Blood was carried by the water from the sprinklers, trailing along like a river, stopping underneath Peter’s boots.

…

**Gotham City Police Department Interrogation Room- 8:30 PM**

“Hey pointy ears,” Spider-Man said, on the other side of the mirror the Joker was humming some tune. Spider-Man saw some of the Joker’s stuff lying on the table, his blazer, a fake flower and a revolver. For some reason there was a feint buzzing in his head. Spider-Man figured it was because he thought of Batman as a danger.

“Peter Parker,” Batman said.

“Maybe you shouldn’t use my full name when there’s a dangerous criminal in the other room,” Peter said.

“He can’t hear us.”

There was a silence. A very long one.

“Aren’t you going to ask what brings me here?” Peter asked.

Silence.

Peter sighed. “Fine, the silent treatment.” He stared up in frustration, tapping his foot against the floor before finally swallowing his pride. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

Silence.

“I wanted to know why you do what you do.”

Silence.

Peter groaned and crossed his arms. “I mean, you don’t kill and stuff. You have a freaking tank and airplane yet, you could take on an army and still have enough discipline to let psychopaths like Two-Face and Riddler free so I want to know, why? What makes you get out of that bat bed in the morning?”

Silence.

“Okay fine,” Peter said. “I’ll get out of here. Clearly you want to spend your free time glowering or whatever it is you’re doing here.”

“I don’t know.”

“What was that?”

Batman turned around to face him. “I don’t know. I used to know, before but now…”

Batman was silent for a while. “This city has this habit, of turning good people cruel. Harvey Dent, Frank Castle. They were good man but now you can no longer recognise them. This city I wanted to protect squeezes out whatever’s good in a person and turns them into monsters. I can only hope that it doesn’t happen to me.”

“And what if it does?”

“Then the only thing left for Gotham City is a prayer.”

…

**Crime Alley Junkyard- 1:30 AM**

Gordon and Robin had dug him out from the rubble. Just in time, as the fire had swallowed the place whole. Batman was led through the hallways, sprinklers raining down on them as they made it to what could only be described as a bloodbath.

Bodies were buried underneath the rubble; their blood being washed away by the sprinklers. What remained of the prisoners was nothing but limbs and mangled bodies. Nobody that was in the holding cells had survived.

Both the Joker and Spider-Man were nowhere to be seen.

Robin and a few GCPD officers survived with a few minor injuries, the same could not be said for the prisoners.

Batman left Robin to tend to the wounded and told Gordon to send people over to Judge Herbert Dredd’s house as he made his way over to a lead the Joker had given him.

It was raining by the time Batman made it to Crime Alley. Once a bustling area full of life called Park Row, after the death of the Waynes it was never the same.

He searched through the junk and mess of the people, shuffling through old computers and rotten stoves until he found what he was looking for.

Underneath an old mustang was a corpse. Batman pushed the car aside and saw what once remained of a man. A hollowed-out husk with flies buzzing around his eyes and maggots crawling out of what was once in his eyes. The man had his body spread like he was being crucified and in his left hand there was a gun.

Batman moved the corpse’s head to the right. There was a sickening lurch as his head was snapped clean off his body and maggots crawled out of his neck and mouth. Batman noticed a bullet hole on his left temple.

At the Batcave, he expected Barbara to scream at him, yell at him but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Dick tried talking to him but after realising he wasn’t being listened to, he left Bruce alone in the cave.

There were luckily some finger prints on the gun and Bruce had found some DNA samples on the corpse. He put it on the scanner and it took a while before the Batcomputer found a match and when it did Bruce slammed his fist against the desk.

He stormed past Alfred.

“Master Bruce what’s going on?” Alfred asked. He walked over to the computer and checked the scan results.

The name of the man who had committed suicide in the junkyard was Jack Napier.

_To be continued…_


	16. Chapter 15

“You know something they don’t tell you about being a judge?” Hebert Dredd said, flicking his cigarette in his glass ashtray and taking a sip of whiskey from his glass. “They don’t tell you just how boring the job is.”

Herbert Dredd shuffled a deck of cards, giving himself and the police officer he was playing with seven cards each.

“You hear the same damn arguments,” Dredd said. “Insanity for a mass murderer, some far off stretch for injuries to personality. You spend four hours of your day listening to these arrogant assholes using the same damn Latin words and same damn arguments to a group of twelve dumbass jury members who have no idea what’s going on and can be easily swayed.”

“Why are you telling me this?” asked the police officer.

“Oh, I know I’m going to die,” Dredd said. “Made peace with death ages ago. That clown is going to come in and kill me and that’ll be that. Figure I got nothing to lose.”

Dredd pointed at the cigarettes and the half empty bottle of bourbon that he had at his side. “I mean is this anyway a judge should act, specially when he’s surrounded by over a hundred cops and hell, The Batman.”

The officer chuckled. “Fair enough.”

“I figured,” Judge Dredd drank his beer, placing his card on the pile in the middle. The officer stared and then picked a card from the deck. “I figured there must be something, you know? Something that’d make the job more interesting.”

Judge Dredd scratched his snowy white hair and chuckled. “Can’t believe I’m telling you this,” he mumbled.

Dredd cleared his throat. “I figured there must be something I can do to spice things up and the idea came up to me during Harvey Dent’s trail.”

The officer played two cards card. It was a 2 of spades and a two of hearts. Dredd had to pick four cards from the deck.

“Now, Harvey Dent, that was a district attorney if I ever saw one,” Dredd said, chuckling. “Man was on fire in a courtroom and always fought until he got the result he wanted. He made the job a little less boring. But before any major decision Dent made in trial, he did something. Bastard flipped a coin. Before calling an incriminating witness, flip. Before presenting a piece of evidence, flip. He left it all up to chance and I must say, overseeing that trial I was impressed, intrigued even. I didn’t tell anybody about the coin so you shouldn’t either.”

Dredd cleared his throat before continuing. “Now there was this one case. Defamation suit for some company. I knew that the company would win, always happens. Their lawyers always find a way. But before the trial for some damn reason I was reminded of Dent, flipping away at his coin and well, I had a few nickels on me. Heads for the plaintiff, tails for the defendant. I flipped and _voila_.”

There was a sizzling noise as Dredd snubbed the cigarette in his ashtray and smiled. “The thing about juries is that they’re stupid. Real stupid and they can be easily misled. When people say that American Justice is a joke well, they ain’t lying. I mean just look back at the prohibition and George Remus. The defendant had a hell of a good argument, companies I tell you. Always find a way to win.” Dredd took a sip from his whiskey. “But the coin. The coin landed on tails.”

…

Peter hadn’t gotten any sleep.

The only thing he could think about the entire night was all those bodies and the smell, the smell didn’t leave. He smelt the smell of exposed flesh everywhere and could barely stomach his breakfast. He even woke up in the middle of the night to puke cause the image of buried bodies was seared into his brain with a burning stick.

“Peter?” Aunt May said, turning to face him, concern plastered all over her face. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

Peter flashed her a weak smile. He didn’t want her to worry. “I’m fine.”

“Really?’ May asked, hand on his forehead. “You look sick. You sure you want to go to school today?”

“I’m fine, May.”

Peter could barely eat his cereal, let alone swallow it. The TV was going on about the bombing at GCPD and Peter was about to change it when something caught his attention. And not in the good way.

“GCPD officers found dead on 232 West Street,” the reporter said. “Officers believe it to be the criminal Vulture…”

The TV went black. Aunt May scoffed. “Everything on TV nowadays is depressing. Better to not let all that negativity suck you in.”

Aunt May started talking about something but it all felt so far away. The Vulture got away. The Vulture got away. Over and over the words repeated themselves in his head. Peter got up and opened the apartment door.

“Peter, where you going?”

(The Vulture got away)

“School,” Peter mumbled.

(He killed all those officers.)

“You sure?” Aunt May asked. “You haven’t finished your breakfast.”

“I’ll be fine,” Peter said. Peter closed the door behind him, climbing down the stairs with weak footsteps.

The Vulture got away.

And it was all his fault.

…

“You’d think it’d stop there,” Dredd said, placing a card on the table. “I did the same with divorces, left a lot of wives with shitty husbands and vice versa but hell, at least it made their lives interesting.”

Dredd poured himself another glass of whiskey. “I even did the same with murder cases. Insane bastards like Mad Hatter and Black Mask got sent to prison instead of Arkham Asylum and I said good riddance. Losers like Mad Hatter couldn’t last but Black Mask made the place his second home.”

Dredd chuckled. “Thing is I didn’t regret any of this. Not one bit. It made life interesting and I say for everybody involved. Some divorcees who didn’t get their divorces granted rekindled their relationships, criminals who were meant to get sent straight to Arkham realised just how privileged they are. Folks like Riddler couldn’t last a day in a Blackgate but can walk around Arkham acting like they own the place. Criminals learnt a wonderful lesson; I can tell you that.”

Dredd placed a Jack of spades. “Back to me now.” He then placed a king of spades that skipped the officer’s turn. He took a sip of whiskey. “I used to follow the results too. Being a judge, you know people who know people. Seeing what happened it brought a little fun to my day. What was day after day of hearing my wife, God rest her soul, say the same things, eat the same breakfast and listen to my clerks say the same goddamn thing over and over again, it was interesting to say the least. Sure, doubts started spreading about my judgements, hell I heard some law students even started critiquing my judgements. They had no basis or whatever they said. It’s easy to blame the judge or the justice system and I know a couple of lawyers with silver tongues but hell, most if not all of the time it was the jury. Save for the divorce trial here and there, whisper one thing or say another underneath your breath and those dumb bastards change their mind. Ignorance is easy to take advantage of and none of those people over there know anything about the law. Plant one little seed of doubt and it branches out to all of them.”

“Now you might be thinking to yourself, what about those trials?” Dredd said. “Trials where a man’s life is in my hands. Where whether a man will be breathing fresh air or locked in a cell awaiting an electrical chair. Whether a man will feel the son shining on his face or be locked in a cell that smelt like piss and sweat for the last few minutes of his life. What did I do for those trials?”

Dredd grinned. “I flipped a coin on those too.”

…

“Peter,” Barbara said. “Hey, Peter you okay?”

They were in the cafeteria. Dick was out still getting his lunch so it was only him and Barbara sitting right next to each other.

“Yeah…” Peter said weakly. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Barbara said. “You haven’t touched anything on your plate and you’ve been spending most of your classes going to the bathroom. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Peter wanted so badly to tell her. But what would she understand? What would she think of him? Not only had he let a criminal kill cops and get away with it but he had also killed all those prisoners. There could have been something, anything that he could’ve done to save them.

Not to mention the fact that some of the students had called in absent. Most likely to mourn. You live in Gotham; hell, you see Gotham and you know most of the people who live there aren’t saints. Most if not all the students in this school had parents who are or were criminals, who did some bad things and because of Peter’s incompetence he just cost them all a father, a brother or hell even an uncle.

“I have to go the bathroom.”

Peter could feel the bile sizzling in his throat before he puked it out.

“Tough day, huh?” said the Janitor who was standing outside the bathroom.

Peter chuckled. “Understatement.”

“Here kid,” the Janitor said, shuffling around in his pockets and pulling out a pack of tissues. “Clean your mouth.”

Peter nodded. “Thanks.”

Peter sat down on his cafeteria seat but he was feeling weak. It felt like his knees were buckling.

“Hey Peter,” Barbara said, hand on his back. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

“You sure as hell don’t look fine,” Dick said. “Look is there something you’re not telling us?”

Peter waved his hand. “No, no. I’m fine guys. Don’t worry.” Peter wanted to mention that his voice sounded awfully familiar to Robin’s but then how would Peter explain he knew Robin.

Both Barbara and Dick knew that he wasn’t fine. Both of them knew what had happened to him but they couldn’t risk talking about it because of Bruce.

“Look, Peter,” Barbara said, though there was a tightness to her voice he didn’t notice before. “If you’re not comfortable talking about whatever happened to you to us, you can talk to someone else. Someone you feel comfortable sharing stuff with.” Barbara slid her hand and Peter could feel the warmth spreading through his body. They locked eyes for a moment, Dick felt something in his heart, something that hurt. “I can’t stand to see you like this.” She turned to Dick. “ _We_ can’t stand to see you like this.”

Peter smiled. “Thanks.”

“Enough of this sappy crap,” Dick said. “Eat up. Your stomach must be rumbling.”

“So, this was all one big intervention?” Peter asked.

“The cheeseburger on your plate not give it away?” Dick asked.

They spent their lunch, laughing and sharing jokes. After lunch they went their separate ways and Peter thought to himself that they were right. He should talk to someone. And he knew just who that someone was.

…

“I’m tired of this Bruce,” Dick said. “Tired of pretending that I don’t know who Peter really is.”

Bruce was silent as always.

“Yeah keep your mouth shut like you always do,” Dick said. “That guy looked sick, _sick_ , Bruce. He’s not the same as me and you. He’s never seen anything like the Joker and we have every single day in this city.”

“He’s not used to it,” Bruce said, finally speaking. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes,” Dick said. “Hell, I never got used to it either. He needs someone. Someone like us, Bruce. People who understand what he’s going through.”

“If he wants to protect this city,” Bruce said. “Like he says he does, he’ll have to get used to it. Used to being alone.”

Dick had his mouth wide open. “Are you hearing yourself right now? He’s fifteen.”

“You’re fifteen too.”

Dick clenched his fist and looked up at the ceiling of the Batcave. “That’s different. He didn’t want this, I did. Barbara did. Whatever the hell happened was on us. He didn’t want to get his uncle killed; he didn’t want to be bit by that spider.”

Dick slammed his hands against the table. “You know what? Talking to you is like talking to a stone wall. I won’t get anywhere with this.”

Dick was close to leaving the Batcave before he turned around. “You talk big about being alone, about getting used to it. Then tell me why does Batman and Robin exist huh? Why’d you let some 10-year-old kid be your partner, huh?”

Bruce paused. He deliberated then turned his head slightly to the right. “I felt sorry for you.”

Dick laughed without humour. “Sure, you did.”

“Keep everybody at a distance, _Mr. Wayne_.” Dick said the last part in a mocking voice. “It seems that’s all you’re good at doing.”

The door to the Batcave slammed shut.

…

“There was this guy, Ali,” Dredd said. “The guy was clearly at the wrong place at the wrong time. Walked right into a room full of the dead bodies of kids. Kids who had their heads sliced clean off. Must’ve been 9, 10 years old. Hell, if I remember. Point is his prints were all over the murder weapon. Autopsy found heroin in his blood and there were rumours going around he was in possession of child pornography. Things weren’t looking well for him and…” Dredd chuckled, filling himself another glass of whiskey. “He wasn’t winning any favours with the jury I tell you that.” He took a sip. “You know the drill by now, flip the coin. Boom. Death sentence. Doubt anybody would miss him.”

Dredd emptied his glass. “I don’t think any one person should have that power. The death of a person is just one sentence away. The day after his brains got fried, people found out it wasn’t Ali but the father of those three children. Had a mental disorder, sent to Arkham. But Ali had his brains fried for no reason.”

There was a pause. A short pause that could’ve meant many things. Regret, maybe even the consequences of what he did weighing on his shoulders but Judge Dredd just grinned.

“I think leaving it up to chance,” Dredd said. “I think it made it all interesting. Guards say Ali enjoyed every single one of his meals, including his last meal. He made a few calls apologising to his parents, his exes, everybody he ever wronged. Even started praying. Someone said he never felt so alive during the last few days of life.” Dredd smiled. “I think, deep down we’re all bored. All of us want something different, something to break out of the monotony. People assume the worst, worry about the least probable thing happening like their plane crashing or their children not making it home. That’s just the boredom showing itself, deep down we don’t want to be safe but none of us know the cure to boredom is just one-coin flip away.”

The clock struck twelve.

“Look at the time,” Dredd said. “Didn’t realise I spent all this time talking.” He chuckled. “Can’t believe I spent all this time sharing this with a stranger. You’re a good listener. Tell me what’s your name.”

“Jack,” the officer said.

“Damn, Jack,” Dredd said, laughing. “I count thirteen cards in your hand. Lady Luck has not been kind to you. See, I only got me two cards left.”

Jack smiled. “Oh, I wouldn’t call it quits just yet.”

Jack removed a card from his hand and with a flourish placed it on the table.

“You’ll find I’m full of surprises.”

The card on top of the pile was that of The Joker.

…

Peter’s spider sense started buzzing as he knocked the door of Adrian Toome’s little house.

“Mr. Toomes, it’s me, open up.”

He knocked again as his spider sense started getting more intense.

“Mr. Toomes, it’s Peter.”

He heard the cocking of a pistol and the snarling of a dog way too late.

“Adrian ain’t here, Peter,” said a man.

Peter turned to see one of the residents holding a pistol and yanking a mangy dog back with a leash with bloodshot eyes and a muzzle on its mouth. Peter could see that it had to be yanked back with considerable force as the leash dug itself into its neck.

“It’s just me and you,” the man said.

“And who are you supposed to be?” Peter asked.

The man laughed. An ugly, wet laugh. “Don’t you remember? I tried to steal your coat.”

Peter shook his head. “Nope, and I don’t care.” He held out both hands in surrender. “Look I don’t want any trouble. I just want to talk to Adrian and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Oh, Peter,” the man said. “It’s too late for that. You think you can just walk into and out of this junkyard without a care in the world just cause you’re under Adrian’s wing? The world don’t work that way kid and Murphy and Ripper here want to teach you a lesson.” The dog barked and Murphy pulled at the leash. “Can I tell you a story?”

Peter was silent.

“I’ll take that scowl as a yes.”

Murphy cleared his throat. “You see, back in the day, these whores, mainly teenagers and some prostitutes.” Murphy waved his hand. “Doesn’t matter. These whores used to leave some babies in this here junkyard. Didn’t matter how old, they didn’t care. Didn’t want the responsibility. Anyways these whores used to leave their babies here and back then, there used to be a bunch of dogs, before us homeless folks came in and called this place home. And these dogs, they were hungry and they couldn’t survive off of scraps for long. No, they needed a real meal. And those babies, they were looking real enticing see?”

Peter turned pale. He could feel his stomach churn.

“Not long after, these dogs developed a taste for human flesh. Some of the folks who called this place home had to be real careful at night otherwise they could get their hands chomped off. Some of us folks were even eaten. One man, Jerry had his intestines ripped clean off his stomach. Lotta folk died and nobody cared. Nobody bothered, they ate and slept in their comfortable bed while the people who called this place home had to fight every night had their limbs torn off or died of rabies. Eventually we got tired. Few of our guys intercepted some weapons and we took the fight to them. Rounded up some of the dogs and shot them. This boy over here’s the last of em. I managed to put him aside before the boys got to him. Fed him some meat but not so much to wipe out the taste of human in em. This little boy here helped me gain some rep out in this here junk heap and man this boy is loyal. Will go around chasing folks to hell and back but never be. After he’s done, he sits down next to me like a loyal little doggie.”

“I just want to talk to Mr. Toomes,” Peter said. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“And I just want to give you a little taste of this junkyard,” Murphy said. “So, you don’t go around walking in it like you own the place.”

Murphy knelt down to his dog who was in the midst of a low growl and started removing the muzzle.

Peter clenched his fists. “Murphy, I just want you to know I’m not responsible for what happens to your dog and his little bitch.”

Murphy let out a tense chuckle. “Oh, you won’t be such a smartass after Ripper is done with you. He’s going to rip that mouth right. Off. Your. Face.”

The dog started sprinting towards Peter. Peter stood still as the dog leaped in the air. He was about to punch it when a gunshot rang in the air. The corpse of the dog lay on the ground, blood spilling out of the place where its head used to be.

“Why you little…” Murphy was about to point his gun at Peter when Adrian Toomes fired a shotgun blast inches away from his feet.

Murphy screeched and swerved towards Adrian.

“Get the hell out of here, Murph,” Adrian said, reloading the shotgun. “Or else.”

“You just killed my dog,” Murphy said. “You expect me to let this go.”

“I have a shotgun, Murph,” Adrian said. “So, yes.”

“I’m going to bring my boys,” Murphy said. “We’re gonna trash the place and then we’re gonna trash you.”

“You can try, Murph,” Adrian said and grinned. “The Vulture will be waiting for you.”

Murphy looked like he was about to say something. He puffed out his chest, staring at Peter and then Adrian with daggers in his eyes before walking away.

“What does he mean, calling you the Vulture?” Peter asked.

“Just a nickname,” Adrian said. “Get in the house I want to have a word with you.”

Peter walked in the house with Adrian. He leaned over his makeshift counter. He didn’t offer coffee or anything.

“What did I say, Peter?” Adrian said, his voice was tight and there was clear disappointment in his eyes. “What the hell did I say about coming here? I told you this place was dangerous. I told you I don’t want a kid like you running around here. But what do you do? You come here anyway.”

Peter sighed. “I know…”

Adrian looked at the roof and let out an exasperated sigh. “You knew? So why the hell did you disobey me? Peter, I care about I…”

“I know,” Peter shouted, cutting him off. “I know that Mr. Toomes. It’s just… I’ve had a few bad days and I just… I need someone to talk to.”

Adrian stared at him for a while. And then he sighed and gave in. “Alright kid. But only for today. Fucker Murphy still has a bunch of tricks up his sleeves.”

Adrian started shuffling around his shelves looking for coffee.

“You sure… I mean will you be alright?”

Adrian grinned. “Oh, Murphy and his boys are all talk and no show. They can’t handle me.”

“And the Vulture thing,” Peter said. “What’s that?”

“Oh, just a nickname,” Adrian said. “They saw me picking up scrap around these parts and well, it stuck.”

Adrian gave Peter a mug and took one for himself and sat across Peter. “So, what’s on your mind?”

“I…” Peter said. “The Joker thing. I saw what he did to those police officers and prisoners. And Vulture too.”

Adrian stirred a little in his seat.

“They kill all these innocent people and I don’t know,” Peter said. “You don’t see stuff like this in New York. Sure, people over there are fucked up but you barely hear about people blowing up a room full of prisoners.” Peter paused. “And I feel like, if something like this happens again, I’ll be pushed off the edge, you know. I’m worried something like this might happen to my Aunt, something horrible and… god I just want this to stop.”

They were quiet for a while. And then Adrian decided to speak up.

“My family was killed.”

Peter was about to say something but Adrian raised a hand.

“My family was killed, Peter,” Adrian said. “She was pregnant with our boy and my daughter, oh god my daughter.” Adrian put a hand on his mouth before he continued. “They were killed by some people in power, people I can’t do anything about. And that’s why I’m here, living in this shithole.”

Adrian looked at the picture on the table, barely looking at Peter as he continued. “Thing is I wanted so badly to murder those bastards who killed them. To kill them and that’s all I’ve ever thought about, Pete. Killing them. My heart’s gotten so hard that when I try and think about memories, try to remember anything about them I can’t. I can’t remember my wife’s voice or how my daughter used to laugh. My memories they’re… they’re hollow.”

He looked at Peter though his eyes had tears in them. “This city takes good men and consumes them. My heart was eaten away by revenge and now it doesn’t have space for the people I used to love Peter, the people I used to cherish. This city takes and keeps on taking and it’s hard to stay strong. It’s hard to not let it take you too.”

“That’s what I’m afraid off,” Peter said. “That this city will take someone I love again and…”

Adrian put a hand on his shoulder. “Peter, you’re strong. Strongest kid I’ve ever know and my girl was a fighter.” He chuckled. “This city won’t take a boy like you. I know it won’t.”

Adrian looked away, at the wings hidden underneath the blanket. The wings stained with the blood of people with families, just like he had. “And don’t you ever, ever let this shithole city consume you. Promise me that.”

“I promise.”

…

Chance is a funny thing.

Judge Dredd left his judgements to chance. A lot of families that didn’t need to be were separated, whether through divorce or death. A lot of innocent people were sent to prison and perfectly sane people to Arkham.

And chance played a very peculiar role in the fate of Barbara Gordon.

The Joker escaped Dredd’s manor. When Herbert Dredd was busy flipping coins that ruined people’s lives, the Joker stashed weapons all over Dredd’s mansion. The police officers never stood a chance. The Joker had a stand off with the Batman. The Batman won, obviously but the Joker had a trick up his sleeve. A little acid squeezed into a tiny flower went a long way.

But unfortunately, the Joker was in a very sour mood. His day was already ruined. Dredd had left a bad taste in his mouth. How could a judge act that way? The white wigged fools who were supposed to uphold justice? It disgusted him.

But to make his mood even more sour he got a gunshot to his shoulder.

He turned around and saw Commissioner Jim Gordon. He fired his machine gun at him just for good measure. Jim Gordon ducked but his backup had arrived and poor old Joker didn’t want to deal with the SWAT. He’d deal with the good old Commissioner when the time came. Ol’ Jimbo would have a surprise waiting for him.

Unfortunately, that night after searching through the old archives for a newspaper to read while he took a massive old dump there was newspaper article about the birth of the Commissioner’s pretty little daughter with the cute little freckles.

Digging through the Joker archives, the Joker found a yearbook. His daughter was fifteen now and quite the looker.

And boy oh boy did little Old Jimbo love his daughter.

The Joker grinned.

His mind was made.

…

Valeria Toomes always wanted to fly.

Daddy was always good at making stuff and daddy had promised her that one day he’d make her wings so she could soar in the sky like an eagle. They would soar in the sky like birds.

Little did Daddy know that he’d be holding Valeria Toomes’s corpse in his corpse, mouth agape and riddled with bullet holes.

He woke up that night as he always did every night relieving that moment. But this time he didn’t hear her voice, he couldn’t hear her laugh or her screams. It was muted.

He got up to make himself a coffee but there was a smell in the air. A smell Adrian Toomes’s was all too familiar with. The smell of corpses. And that smell was very close by.

Adrian Toomes walked slowly to his door, shotgun in his hand and with a deep breath he opened it. On his porch was the corpse of a dog and where the head was supposed to be was the face of Murphy with his tongue out and a bow tie on his head.

Adrian kicked the corpse aside, hand over his mouth to prevent himself from gagging. He wondered who’d be sick enough to do something like this and got his answer almost immediately.

“Oh, come on, I spent hours on that,” said the Joker. “And you kick it aside.”

The Joker walked past him without a care in the world.

“It’d definitely liven up this shithole.”

“I have a gun on me,” Adrian said, pointing the gun at the Joker. “And I’m not afraid to use it.”

The Joker hung his coat and jacket. “No, no Adrian.” The Joker placed his finger on the gun barrel and pushed the barrel down. “You’re not going to do that.”

“How do you know my…”

“I know about the wings Adrian,” Joker said, crashing on his sofa and spreading his legs kicking the photo of his family to the floor. “I know how you took over this here junkyard. All it takes is a little intimidation. You really need to have your _head_ in the game.”

The Joker chuckled.

“What do you want with me?” Adrian asked, picking up the photo and putting it on top of his shelf.

“Oh, it’s simple really,” Joker said, shuffling around his pockets and pulling out a tube. He threw the tube to Adrian who caught it. “I heard your wings got busted by that annoying little insect. That tube has pure Vibranium in it. One hell of an upgrade don’t you think?”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

The Joker turned and grinned and Adrian. “Oh, it’s simple bird-brain. I want to make a deal.”

_To be continued…_


	17. Chapter 16

For the first time in his life, Peter Parker had a date.

And for the hundredth time in his life, Aunt May was making a fuss about nothing.

“But you’ve got to look good, Peter,” Aunt May said. “This is your first date after all.”

“But it’s just a…”

“Hush,” Aunt May said. “Now tie up that bowtie.”

Despite his numerous objections, Aunt May insisted Peter wear a suit to his first date. Peter said that it was just a date, not prom but Aunt May wouldn’t listen. So here Peter was, in a bright blue suit on his way for his first date.

Aunt May said that’d he’d have to be back before curfew so the date was at 5 PM and Aunt May made him get ready at 2.

“Aunt May I’m _burning_ in this can I…”

“No,” Aunt May said. “This is your first date Peter. You have to dress to impress.”

“But we’re literally just going to a McDonalds…”

Aunt May stared at him like he’d just killed her mother. “This is your first date and you’re treating her to a _McDonalds_.”

“We’re high schoolers May,” Peter said. “We don’t have the money for fancy ass restaurants.”

“Language.”

Peter sighed. “For fancy restaurants.”

“When Ben and I started dating he was dressed up in such a nice suit,” May said. “I remember the smell of his cologne and the smell of his new car. He took me to one of the fanciest restaurants in New York. We had prawns and grilled salmon. And you’re taking her to a McDonalds.”

Peter looked down at his shoes and looked up in the sky “Like god, why me.”

“The economy was different back then,” Peter said. “Look can I just change into something else. This suit is killing…”

“You’re keeping the suit.”

“But it’s hot…”

“You are _keeping_ the suit.”

“Please can you listen to me…”

“The suit.”

Peter sighed. There was no winning with Aunt May.

…

“Honey,” Barbara Gordon’s mother said. “I think your date is here.”

“Coming.”

Barbara Gordon searched around for the best pair of shoes she had. She wore a pink t-shirt and jeans, seemingly casual but they were the best pink t-shirt and jeans she had. Her dad was at the lunch table, reading a newspaper.

“Remember if he tries anything…”

Barbara sighed. “He won’t dad.”

“I know but…”

Barbara sighed. “I can defend myself. I learnt how to from the best.”

“Still…”

Barbara smiled. “Dad.”

She gave her dad a kiss on the cheek before opening the door. Peter was there holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a…

“Is that a suit?”

…

Peter wanted to groan. “Yes. It is.”

“Aww and flowers,” Barbara said. “I don’t think people do that nowadays.” She picked up the flowers. It was a multicoloured bush of roses, dandelions and daffodils all bundled up together.

“My Aunt made me buy it on the way,” Peter said, looking away. How cool. Your Aunt made you buy it. “I didn’t want to…”

“What do you mean you didn’t want to?” Barbara said. “These are amazing.”

“Thanks,” Peter said. “Scratch that, it was one hundred percent my idea.”

Barbara giggled. “I’m going to put these in my room. You want to come in?”

“I-in your room?”

Barbara punched him lightly against his shoulder. “No, silly.”

“Oh,” Peter said, kind of disappointed.

“Maybe you can,” Barbara said.

“Really,” Peter said. “That’s cool I’ll…”

“When my parents aren’t here,” Barbara said, winking.

“Oh,” Peter said, disappointed again. Until he realised just what she meant. “ _OH_ , I see what you…”

Peter got his reply by an empty doorway.

…

“You’re fine with this?” Peter asked. He could smell the grease in the air and the smell of stale patties being sizzled on a grill.

“Yeah,” Barbara said. “We’re teenagers. I don’t think we can afford fancy restaurants. Besides I’m pretty sure my stomach’s used to junk food by now.”

The hot temperature radiating from the grills did not help with Peter’s suit situation. He was burning in the suit, not to mention the fact that his spider suit was tucked underneath (just in case). He was trying his hardest not to show Barbara he was sweating.

“Dick and I,” Barbara said. “We had this night job, some security gig.”

“They let teenagers work in security?”

“This city is full of surprises,” Barbara said. “When our supervisor made us to long gigs, Dick would always buy junk food. Obviously, I didn’t want anything that greasy but Dick insisted. After a while it’d be a nightly thing and soon, well my stomach got used to it.”

“Are you and Dick still,” Peter asked, Barbara stared at him. “Um, I mean if you don’t mind me asking.”

“No, we’re just friends,” Barbara said.

“What made you um…?”

Barbara was quiet for a while.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Peter quickly added.

Barbara smiled. “You’re new to this aren’t you?”

Peter fiddled with his collar. “Sorry. Just wanted to keep the conversation going.”

“It’s fine,” Barbara said. “Dick and I split up cause he was always worried about me. So much so that he treated me like I was a baby. I realised that he cares about me but I just didn’t want to be smothered.”

“I get that,” Peter said. “I uh… My Aunt worries about me a lot. Sometimes a little too much. I mean you can see how much I’m sweating in this suit.”

Barbara giggled.

“She always makes a fuss about me,” Peter said. “Always. It gets annoying but I mean I understand why.”

Peter sighed, looking down at the table. “After what happened here I… I don’t know. I feel like a dick for treating her the way I did.”

Barbara grabbed his hand.

Peter let out a weak chuckle. “I’m such a downer, aren’t I?”

“No, no,” Barbara said. “After this I’ll show you a spot. Someplace I used to hang out before. I think you’ll like it.”

Peter smiled. “Alright.”

He was about to take out his blazer. He felt comfortable after all, he didn’t feel the need to impress. Barbara made him feel comfortable with himself.

“Keep the blazer on,” Barbara said, an evil smile across her face. “I want to see you suffer.”

…

The view was atop a grey painted city. From above, Gotham looked almost liveable. Almost. The grimy city streets and people who stared at you like they were about to kill you felt like they were a million miles away. Not to mention that it was starting to get cloudy as the sky was overcast with dark clouds.

“I used to hang out here when life, well when life was little too much,” Barbara said. “Your problems seem so far away when you sit up here.”

Peter had his blazer tucked underneath his shoulder. His tie was dangling like a snake on his untucked white shirt. Peter was so glad that Barbara didn’t continue to watch him suffer under the humidity of that stuffy suit. They had both ordered cheap strawberry milkshakes and were slurping away.

“What was that?” Barbara asked. “About your Aunt, you remember? Back at McDonalds?”

“Oh,” Peter said. “Well, a lot of stuff happened to me. In this city. You know what happened to my uncle and…”

Barbara slid her hand over Peter’s. It was warm

“And… well,” Peter said. “A lot of things went downhill. Gotham isn’t the safest place to raise a kid and the place and everything, it… uh… it affected me. It affected me a lot more than I give it credit for.”

“I snapped at my Aunt,” Peter said. “It was after that party at Wayne Manor. She said something and I snapped at her and god I feel so guilty.”

“Peter,” Barbara said. “You’ve got to learn to forgive yourself.”

“I know that it’s just…” Peter sighed. “I’ve never told anyone about this but and…” Peter looked at Barbara for a moment. At her concerned expression, at the freckles on her cheeks. At the strand of her dangling in front of his eyes that he wanted to tuck away behind her ear. He wondered if he should tell her that he’s Spider-Man. That Peter Parker is actually Spider-Man. But then he realised that if he did, he’d be putting her in danger and being the daughter of a police commissioner, she was in enough danger as is. “There was this mugger. This one asshole mugger and I could’ve stopped him. I could’ve stopped the guy but, on that day, I was in a really bad mood and I let him get away. That mugger was the same bastard that killed my uncle and…”

Peter didn’t realise he was crying. Barbara shifted closer to him. “I’m sorry I…”

She put an arm around him, pulling him closer. Tucking her head on his shoulder, letting him know that he’s there.

Peter swallowed something. “I was such an asshole to my Aunt when she clearly was going through the same thing I was. I… those two raised me god dammit and I was such an asshole and I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t…”

“Your suit, Peter.”

“What?”

“The suit you’re wearing,” Barbara said. “The stuffy one. And those flowers. You told me she made a fuss about them, right?”

Peter smiled, wiping his tears. “Yeah she told me I should take you somewhere fancy too.”

Barbara smiled. “See, she’s clearly forgiven you, Peter.”

“I know but…”

“You should come clean to her,” Barbara said. “About everything. About what you told me about your uncle…”

“But I…”

Barbara put a finger on his lip. “Shhh. Tell her about it Pete. You can’t keep bottling it up.”

“But there’s,” Peter sighed. “You know what, you’re right.”

He looked out at the city. The city that had taken so much from him. He turned to Barbara and thought about Dick. And given so much to him too.

“I’ll tell her,” Peter said. “About everything.”

And he was going to tell her about everything. About Ben, about taking jobs behind her back and about him being Spider-Man.

…

The wings were a gleaming bright silver. Candle lights danced across the Vibranium coating, coursing through it like an orange river.

The Vulture’s wings were ready.

…

It was raining. Peter and Barbara’s hair were soaked as they made it to the bus stop.

Barbara gave Peter back his blue blazer which was soaked to a deep dark blue.

“Here you go,” Barbara said.

“At least I won’t need to put that for wash,” Peter said.

Barbara chuckled.

“You sure you don’t want me to wait with you, I can always…”

Barbara shook her head. “It’s alright Peter. I can handle myself.”

“You sure?”

Barbara put a finger on his lips. “Hush child.”

“See you next week?”

Barbara kissed his cheek. “See you next week.”

Peter’s face was a deep red as he walked off.

“Bye Peter.”

Peter barely heard her.

“I said bye Peter,” Barbara called after him.

Peter waved weakly. “Bye.” He touched his cheek, walking away with a blank expression on his face.

“Sweet boy, isn’t he?”

Barbara barely noticed that she was sharing the bench with a man dressed head to toe in a trench coat. His face barely visible under the hat he was wearing.

“Yeah,” Barbara said, sitting on the opposite end of the bench. “He’s really sweet.”

The man chuckled. “Reminds me of something my father used to say.”

“What’s that?”

“He used to tell me, ‘boy, you’re going to meet a lot of girls in your life. Some will be real pretty, some will be really rich and others will show you a hell of a good time in bed. But if she can’t make you smile, if she can’t make you laugh. She ain’t worth it. Prettiness ain’t going to last forever, neither will money and sex gets really boring after a while. But a smile, a smile goes a long way. She could have warts all over her face but if she makes you smile, you’ll ignore them. Hell, you’ll laugh it all off. That’s why you should always go for a girl that makes you smile.’”

“That’s very good advice.”

“Yeah,” the man said. “Days after that I found him hanging on a noose, big smile on his face.”

She heard the revolver click way too late.

“But Daddy Gordon won’t be smiling after she sees what I did to his daughter’s face.”

The man removed his hat, revealing a huge grin underneath.

…

Light poured out off Aunt May’s room. Peter knocked on the door and Aunt May said come in.

Aunt May was dressed in her night clothes, she was sitting on the bed reading a book. When she saw Peter enter, she put the book down and turned to face him.

“How did your date go?”

“It was great,” Peter said and then took a breath. “Look I want to talk about something.”

“I told you not to take her to McDonalds.”

“No, no that,” Peter said. Aunt May saw the serious expression on his face beckoned for him to sit on the bed. When Peter sat down, Aunt May got up and placed a hand on his. Her hands felt so much rougher than Barbara’s.

“There’s been a lot I’ve been keeping from you,” Peter said. “A lot of stuff I haven’t been telling you and it’s time I…”

His spider sense started buzzing.

“Get down.”

“Peter what are you…?”

“Get down now!”

Peter tackled her to the ground as the roof erupted in a burst of rubble. Rubble came raining down them and Peter acted as a human shield.

Peter heard the scrape of metallic wings as the Vulture descended into Aunt May’s room.

…

Barbara tackled the Joker before he could fire the gun. There was a tangle of limbs and Barbara emerged victorious, ripping the gun out of Joker’s hand. The Joker kicked Barbara across the stomach, knocking her back.

“Back in the Asylum, Harvey taught me to always carry spares.”

The Joker pulled out a sub-machine gun from his coat pockets and pointed it directly at Barbara. Barbara grabbed a broken bottle that was lying around and threw it at the Joker as bullets rained down the empty space she once occupied.

She grabbed her phone, running away from the Joker. She dialled the Batcomputer. “Pick up. Pick up.”

She turned around and saw the Joker holding another SMG. He grinned as he pulled the trigger. Barbara leapt aside hiding behind an alleyway.

“Come on Bruce, you idiot!”

Barbara heard something clattering on the ground. She leapt across the room as a grenade exploded behind her, scattering dust and rubble all over her favourite pink shirt. The Joker turned the corner and started firing. Barbara tackled him across the ground, as the Joker laughed.

“I’ve always liked having a girl on top of me,” the Joker said. “Really turns me on.”

She felt the nozzle of her gun at her stomach. Barbara leapt aside before he could fire.

She placed her phone in her pocket so she could focus. She grabbed a nearby brick and before the Joker could start firing tossed it straight at his face. She needed an environment where she had an advantage and the mean streets of Gotham wasn’t it.

She made a run for it, scanning her surroundings as gun fire erupted behind her, the houses and buildings she passed by exploding in a burst of splinters and dust.

She saw a bunch of warehouses and was about to make her way into one when she felt a burning pain sear through her thigh.

She had just been shot in the leg.

…

The Vulture’s wings folded neatly inside their carriers.

“Peter,” the Vulture said. “I just want to talk.”

“Well talk to this.”

The Vulture felt a brick cracked against his face and Peter tackled him across the room.

“You idiot,” Peter said, the Vulture’s visor cracking underneath sledgehammer like blows to the face. “I told you to not to make this personal and what to you do.”

“YOU. MAKE. IT. PERSONAL!” Peter roared, enunciating each word with a punch.

“Peter,” Vulture hissed. Through his cracked visor he saw multiple Peter’s, their faces contorted with rage. “It’s me Adrian.”

That was enough to make him shut up.

“Stop lying to me you maniac,” Peter growled. “STOP LYING TO ME!”

Adrian Toome’s pressed a button on the side of his helmet. With a hiss it fell off and clattered on the floor.

Peter’s posture weakened. His hands hung limp on the side.

“No,” he said, his voice cracking, tears starting to form in his eyes. “No, it can’t be you.”

…

Barbara limped and stumbled, avoiding the gunfire raining down upon her. She was inches away from a warehouse, from a place where she would be in control.

She felt bullets tear the ground inches away.

“Oh, come on,” Joker said. “Stop playing so coy. Come here to Daddy Joker.”

The Joker walked slowly towards her. As if toying with her. He fired his bullets at irregular intervals, discontent with putting Barbara out of her misery. Meanwhile, Barbara had her face caked in mud. Her clothes were soaked and littered with mud and dirt.

Barbara limped her way to the warehouse, slipping on a puddle. The puddle turned crimson with her blood as she tried to get up. The Joker’s footsteps getting closer and closer.

She got up, tripping and slipping and limped her way to the warehouse, narrowly avoiding gunfire. She made it to the warehouse, slamming the door behind her. She ducked as bullets tore through the door, rain slipping through the holes they made and on her face. She rolled out of the way as more bullets fired through the door. She looked around the warehouse, for something, anything that would give her some sort of advantage.

On her right she saw a sledgehammer.

And her mind was made.

…

“It can’t be you,” Peter said, crying. “It can’t.”

Adrian looked down. “I’m sorry Peter. It is.”

“I looked up to you,” Peter said. “Y-you taught me so much. You were there for me…”

“I’m sorry Peter,” Adrian said. “I really am. “

“I…”

Adrian placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry Peter.”

“W-What are you doing here?”

“Tonight, I’m going to be doing something,” Adrian said. “Something really dangerous and I’m going to need you step off.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Peter said. “I can’t let you…”

“Oh, you will, Peter,” Adrian said. “I’m no scientist but your Aunt isn’t doing so well.”

Peter was so caught up with Adrian that he’d forgotten all about Aunt May. He ran towards her and almost fell on his knees when he saw what was happening.

Her face was pale, she was breathing heavily, her body moving up and down and her hands clutching her chest.

She was having a heart attack.

…

The door to the warehouse slammed open.

“Come on Babsy,” Joker said, gun pointed at the dark empty warehouse as lightning flashed across his face. “I’ll be so gentle. It’ll almost be painless.”

The Joker swerved around, firing blindly at the warehouse. “You and your dad have so much fight in you, don’t you? I mean would you look at my forehead?”

Blood ran down his forehead, staining his brown trench coat.

“Don’t worry about the blood,” Joker said. “It won’t get in the way.”

The Joker heard something move to his left and fired. He walked toward where he fired and saw the corpse of a dead cat.

“Can we please stop playing these games?” Joker said. “I’m getting bored.”

“Sure.”

Lightning flashed as Barbara swung a sledgehammer directly at Joker’s ribs. There was a sickening crack as the Joker stumbled back, out of breath but Barbara wasn’t done yet.

Barbara tackled him across the wall, crashing across empty boxes.

“This is for all the GCPD officers you killed,” Barbara screamed. “For all the people’s lives you’ve ruined.”

Barbara put all her anger, all her rage into the punch. Savouring each and every punch she landed on his face. She kept on punching him over and over again till his face was reduced to a bloody pulp, till her knuckles where stained with his blood, till the tears started pouring down her face.

She knew why Bruce didn’t let her in the GCPD operation. She knew why he was so hesitant to let her close to the Joker.

The Joker was coughing out blood, his face was a red and blue pulp and he had teeth missing and knowing how hard she hit her across the chest with a sledgehammer, his ribs were probably a mess.

Barbara didn’t know she was capable of this. She got off the Joker and called Dick.

“Hey Babs, what’s up?”

“The Joker,” Barbara said, out of breath. “The Joker attacked me.”

“What the hell?” Dick exclaimed. “Where the hell are you? Bruce and I are on the way, just tell us where you are right now.”

“TKJ,” Barbara said. “I’m by TKJ Street, west of Amusement Mile, by all those warehouses.”

“Alright we got you,” Dick said. “Just make sure you keep the bastard tied up.”

Barbara hung up and put her phone in her pocket and sat across from the Joker. She placed pressure on her thigh, making sure to staunch the bleeding. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving up and down.

“You know,” The Joker said, his voice rasping. “You know my uncle fought in Vietnam.”

“Shut up,” Barbara said. “I don’t care.”

Joker laughed, choking on his blood. “Oh, you’ll like this one. I swear you’ll like this one.”

Barbara saw blood running down his mouth, running down like a waterfall.

“You see my uncle was a teenager back then,” Joker said. “A dumb teenager. He told me he joined the war because he used to read all those Captain America comics, told me he wanted to massacre all those yellow commies and show them who’s boss.”

It seemed like blood was coming from all over him, even in places where it shouldn’t be coming from. Blood started spreading from his legs and his arms, slithering through his mangled body like snakes.

“He was deployed down into the jungle see,” Joker said. “He was sent to some village. He got some intel that some Viet Cong was in that village from his big fat general. My uncle said that fat fuck hadn’t seen a war in his life.”

Blood was suddenly surrounding him entirely, crawling around his body like it was a living thing.

“What the hell is going on?”

…

“No, no,” Peter croaked.

Aunt May put a pale hand on his face. “P… P…”

“I’m no doctor but I think she needs medical assistance.”

“Shut up!” Peter shouted. “Shut the hell up!”

“Clocks ticking, Peter.”

With that the Vulture flew away, leaving behind a hole in the window.

Ok, focus, Peter. Focus. He had to get to the hospital otherwise Aunt May would… Aunt May would…

He needed his mask, his costume. He needed something.

Her breaths were like a ticking time bomb. Peter had no time to grab his mask. Thank god he had his web shooters with him.

Peter webbed away, holding Aunt May over his shoulders. He grabbed his phone and called Dick. He was so unfamiliar with Gotham he didn’t know where the nearest hospital was.

“Pick up, pick up.”

But the line was busy.

…

“How far are you?” Barbara asked.

“We’re on our way,” Dick said. “Why?”

“Somethings happening.”

Dick’s voice was just background noise as the blood grew and grew, enveloping Joker and growing. Dear god it was growing.

“He thought it’d be a clean job,” Joker said. “He though he’d just be shooting some commies but he thought wrong.”

The blood was taking form. Growing into hands, twisting and engorging into clawed fingers and massive legs.

“Everybody had a gun,” Joker said. “The old men had guns, the women had guns, even the children had guns.”

Barbara grabbed his collar. “What the hell’s going on?”

“And one child had a gun pointed to him.”

…

Dick picked up.

Dick was about to say hello when Peter interrupted. “Where the hell is the nearest hospital from my apartment?”

“Pete…”

“My Aunt’s in trouble,” Peter interrupted. “Now where’s…”

“Near 57th and Main,” Dick said. “You need any hel…”

Peter hung up. “Stay with me, May.” Peter swung across Gotham, unaware that his Aunt was as still as a stone.

…

“And my uncle had to kill the kid you see,” Joker said. “He had to. He couldn’t just die. He had a lot to live for, you see.”

“Tell me what’s going or I swear to god I’ll punch you!” Barbara tried to act tough but she couldn’t hide how much her voice was shaking, how much her hands were shaking as she grabbed his throat.

The blood started eating away at his face, his eyes, his cheeks.

“And my uncle learned a valuable lesson that day,” Joker said, his voice getting increasingly more garbled with each word, deeper with each breath and more powerful with each stop. “That war isn’t all fun and games like those comic books. No, he learnt that it was all…”

Barbara felt herself being lifted off the ground by a pair of red claws. She saw a red face, so much like Peter’s mask but with a pair of empty white eyes and razor-sharp teeth. She didn’t have time to react as a red tendril speared her stomach making her choke out blood.

**_“Carnage_ ** **.”**

_To be continued…_


	18. Chapter 17

_The man with the red hood clutched the weapon to his chest as if it was his own child as bullets ricocheted off the metal catwalks. Hordes of security guards shuffled in, firing at him as the ACE Chemical alarms blared, the room flashing red, casting his shadow across the walls._

_The weapon was a red blob that writhed and shook, swirling around and dancing across its refined glass cylinder. It almost looked alive._

_The man with the red hood was about to make it through an emergency exit when a wall of guards blocked him. He ran the opposite direction only to see another wall of guards filling in the empty space that was once the catwalk._

_The catwalk was like a spider’s web, twisting and turning like a labyrinth. He found his exit and made a run for it, being greeted by a hail of gunfire. The gigantic chemical vats below him glowed a sickly green and the pipes above him hissed and he ran away from the barking guards. The catwalk creaked under his heavy footsteps and the railings shook with the slightest hiss of air._

_He was about to make it when there was a gunshot and searing burst of smoke. The man was startled, he fell to his side against a railing. The railing cried out in protest_

**_CRACK._ **

_The railing cracked under his weight. He fell down into a vat of chemicals, the acid eating away at his skin, eating at the ridiculous red hood over his head, burning through his clothes._

_Meanwhile the glass container was breaking, cracks started forming on the surface and soon a bright red blob splashed out. And it was dying. It needed to live, it needed to feed._

_It saw the man drowning in the acid and the chemicals and its mind was made._

…

“Leave something for her to recognise Carny, my boy,” Joker said. “We need her daddy to recognise who those pretty little limbs belong to.”

The girl tried kicking but her legs couldn’t move. She tried fighting but she was losing too much blood.

Carnage opened his maw to feed. His host hadn’t allowed him to eat in so very long and he was starving. He needed nourishment. Despite he’s hosts objections he might have to indulge himself even more.

He could feel her blood joining with his. Delicious, it was so delicious. He licked her across the face, her sweat and fear, the adrenaline. So delicious.

“Barbara no!” he heard a voice say. A man. Carnage turned to see a boy dressed in red and yellow. Carnage grinned. He would have a feast.

He removed his tendril. Her blood splattered across the crates. The boy sprinted towards her and he followed, leaping across the room without a single effort, the boy stumbled back in surprise. Until he felt something being shot at him. Electricity coursed through him. Electricity that felt like nothing but a tingle but electricity nonetheless.

Carnage turned and saw a man dressed in black holding what looked like a gun with blue light coursing through the barrel.

He could sense that this man was calm. He had no fear. The boy was scared, not of him but for the girl’s safety. The man on the other hand had no fear, his heartbeat was steady, his breathing was calm.

But Carnage could sense his anger.

“Robin, get her to the nearest hospital,” the man in black said.

The boy in red and yellow nodded.

Carnage would not let his feast slip through his fingers like that. He leapt at the boy but felt a searing pain as explosions coursed through his back. Carnage had no time to react as something clawed at his back, pulling him away from the children and causing him to stumble.

The man in black rushed at him, his gauntlet glowing blue with electricity. The blood around Carnage’s right hand twisted into the shape of a blade, Carnage sliced but the man in black ducked and started punching him. The electricity did nothing, just made Carnage angrier. The blood around Carnage’s abdomen twisted around the man in black’s arm.

The man in black buckled as Carnage sucked the blood out of his arm, feeding, growing stronger. But the man in black wouldn’t make an interesting meal. Carnage opened his maw.

 _“No Carny don’t,”_ said his host.

It gave the man in black ample time. He pulled out something from his belt and sprayed a bitter blue liquid on Carnage’s face. Before Carnage could react, the man pressed the button on the device and it exploded on Carnage’s face, causing him to recoil and hiss in pain. But the man in black wasn’t done yet. He sprayed that liquid on his left fist and punched Carnage in the face, spewing blood all over the walls.

“Oh, bother,” the Joker said as his face was exposed by the sudden explosion. The man’s gauntlet had been reduced to nothing due to the explosion but he still went in for the punch.

Carnage made sure his host was protected by covering his face. Carnage lunged at the man in black but the man ducked just in time as Carnage regained his bearings. Carnage lunged again, his palms elongating into claws. Batman threw something from his belt. Carnage raised his hand, ready to claw him when a shrill sound burst out from the Batarang.

Carnage’s body twisted and contorted, the pain from the sound causing waves of pain that turned his body against him. Both Carnage and his host howled in pain. Carnage could feel himself twisting apart, could feel the world twisting apart as his ears were bombarded by the pain. 

He saw through hazy eyes the boy running away with the girl on his back. Carnage swiped at them, but he could barely will his hand to change form. He thrashed violently trying to break free of the sound before he lost control over his body.

The man in black walked calmly toward him, ready to deal the finishing blow when Carnage stepped on something.

And the sound stopped.

The man in black stopped, taking up a defensive posture. He pulled out those vile weapons from his belt but Carnage was faster, knocking them out of his hand. The leapt back and was about to grab more but Carnage extended his arm and ripped his belt straight out of his waist.

The man in black remained calm as Carnage tore into the belt, tearing apart its contents and swallowing them whole.

The man took up a defensive position.

Carnage grinned.

…

_The man was curled up in a foetal position, drowning in a vat of chemicals. The acid burnt through his skin, yet he felt cold. He could feel his body sizzle and get eaten away, yet he felt cold._

_The weapon wrapped itself around him, in the warmth of its clutches the man in the red hood could feel his body regenerate, he could feel his body heal._

_The weapon spread across him in a desperate attempt to live. It couldn’t survive without a host, not for long. It didn’t know why but it had to live. It had to live._

_The weapon spread, spread until it found the man’s neck. Many times, the weapon connected with people, but their brains were too weak, too pathetic to contain it, to comprehend it. This time it was a matter of life and death. The weapon didn’t understand the concept, but it was taking a risk._

**_Shattered memories. No beginning or end._ **

Millions of people, dead. Incompatible, indistinguishable, insignificant.

**_No reason. No purpose._ **

It was created, unlike the rest of them. It wasn’t born.

**_No name. No family._ **

Its ‘father’ taken. Unlike the rest it had

**_No beginning._ **

No end.

**_So similar._ **

No difference.

**_A weapon._ **

And the perfect host.

…

Peter burst into the hospital lobby.

“Doctor,” he screamed, his Aunt May still in his arms. “I need a doctor, please!”

A nurse walked up to him. “Sir please…”

“No,” Peter said. “Please. She’s my Aunt, she had a heart attack.”

A few doctors came in, carrying an empty stretcher. The rest of it was a blur. He remembered them plugging machines in her, following them into an ICU unit. Answering some questions. Signing some papers.

A doctor came out of the room, his face unreadable. Peter looked up at him, dreading what the doctor had to say, a sick knot in his stomach, his body like lead. 

“Son,” the doctor said. “Your Aunt will be fine.”

Peter breathed a sigh of relief.

“You got here in a nick of time.”

Peter leaned back.

“You should get home, your Aunt will need some rest,” the doctor said. “Get some…”

“No,” Peter said. The doctor was taken aback by the sudden interruption. “Sorry. I… I’ll be here.”

“She’s not allowed any visitors.”

“I know,” Peter said. “But she’s my Aunt, I… I want to be there for her.”

“Suit yourself.”

Peter leaned back against his seat. His body screamed at him to sleep but Peter couldn’t stop thinking about Adrian. His heart clenched. Adrian. Adrian was his best friend but knowing that he’s the Vulture. Knowing that he killed all those police officers, knowing that his friend was such a monster. It hurt, it made him angry.

But he lost his family. He lost his wife and his kid. And Peter knew what that feel like. He wouldn’t know what he would have done if the doctor told him his Aunt was dead. He couldn’t bear to even entertain the thought. And his Uncle, a father he never knew he had. Love he never knew he needed until it was taken away from him.

Peter could, no he would save him. Stop him from killing anyone else. Stop his best friend from becoming a monster.

But first he needed to find out where he was going. He ran out of web fluid trying to get Aunt May here and his other web shooter was jammed. He needed to get back home and make sure everything was fine.

And that was when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He took it out and saw that he had a bunch of missed calls from Dick. He picked up.

“Hey, Dick,” Peter said. “Now’s not a good time…”

“Peter, you’ve got to hurry to Gotham Private Hospital,” Dick said, almost sounding breathless. “Something happened to Barbara.”

…

_Gus was a janitor and a damn good one at that. A janitor so good he had contracts._

_People, normally rich people would call up Gus and tell him they needed something cleaned. Minister getting a little too violent with a girl that wasn’t his wife, cleaned. Mayor in a room full of crack and glass, cleaned. Top secret weapon to be kept under wraps, cleaned._

_Some burglar had stolen something from ACE Chemicals that they really wanted to keep under wraps. Gus was told that if the weapon was still intact, they were to recover it at any cost. Gus didn’t know what kind of weapon it was, probably some kinda napalm but he had his men wear gas masks just in case._

_They drove the chemical vat to the river, the giant faded green container rumbling on his truck. The Gotham River was grey with pollution, in the distance you could see the grey fortresses of the ACE Chemical factories spewing smoke in the air._

_The boys were supposed to empty out the giant vat. Gus was in charge of a dozen of them. Six of them were heaving, emptying out the nauseating green chemicals into the lake, the other six were on the edge of the river, equipped with some fancy Vibranium tech to keep the weapon in check. They were supposed to bring back the weapon in mint condition otherwise it was off to the chopping block with them._

_The green chemicals sizzled onto the lake, causing the lake to hiss and churn out steam. The sound of liquid pouring into the lake sounded like somebody gulping down large amounts of water. It was steady and stable, the hiss of the lake almost calming. Gus could’ve almost meditated._

_And then there was a crash, water splashed upwards. The unmistakable sound of something heavy falling into the river. A human._

_‘‘Keep your weapons on the lake boys,’’ Gus said. The people over at ACE were very hush hush about everything but they said they had to be very cautious._

_Gus was given a cylinder, something to keep the weapon in. they said the weapon would be bouncing all over the place once those Vibranium weapons were in use, so they had to be quick to capture it._

_The boys had their weapons trained on the river. The only sound was the churning of the river and the chemicals dripping into the lake, dyeing the river green before being washed away._

_Drip._

_Drop_

_Drip_

_There was a bubbling, the boys tensed up. The river churned and twisted, ready to vomit out what was inside it. Noxious bubbles dotted the river, multiplying like rabbits as the river got ready to hurl._

_Only the corpses of dead fish surfaced, their blank eyes reflecting the confused looks on the men’s faces._

_Gus chuckled. ‘’Guess we having ourselves some fish for dinner tonight boys.’’_

_The boys on the riverbank all had their heads sliced out before they could chuckle in return._

_Gus could barely comprehend the geyser of blood spraying down on him, could barely comprehend blood red scythe turning into claws as a beast dragged itself out of the lake._

_The monster was like a whirlwind, slicing and tearing through his men like they were paper raining down blood upon in a torrential shower. He saw Jerry’s intestines spill out and Rao’s head get crushed like a mango._

_One of the boys grabbed those Vibranium weapons and actually fired it, a loud sound wailing from it like a siren. The monster screeched, an inhuman screech. Thrashing around like a rabid dog but one of its tendrils speared the man straight through his heart and soon the wailing stopped as the beast crushed the weapon underneath it’s sledgehammer like feet._

_Gus made a run for it, his heart beating in his chest like a jackhammer. He could feel the sweat falling down his face and the tears fill his eyes as he adrenaline coursed through his body to get him away from whatever that monster, that_ thing _was._

_He leaped inside the truck, everything in his body screaming at him to get away but fear telling him to not start up his shitty car lest he attract the attention of that beast._

_He curled over, hands over his head, whimpering like a lost dog. He prayed to whatever god there was out there to get him out of this. Please get him out of this._

_He didn’t want to look up, he didn’t want to look up at all but for some stupid reason he did and he saw the monster_ eating _his friends. Holding them like they were burgers and just tearing through them, gobbling up intestines like they were sausages and chewing on heads like they were jawbreakers._

 _He wanted to puke, god he wanted to puke so bad. He’d seen a lot of shit in his lifetime but not something as horrific as this. Not as_ inhumane _as this. He shouldn’t look again; he couldn’t look again but for some reason he looked again._

_And saw the beast had disappeared._

_He almost, almost breathed out a sigh of relief. The air in his lungs feeling like daggers. He was about to start the car when glass rained down upon him and he was held up high by a beast. He tried shaking, tried fighting but he couldn’t. His body was paralysed with fear and all it could do was shake, shake. All he could do was cry._

_He stared at the eyes of the beast, pure white and empty. He saw its dagger like teeth and oh god it was grinning. It was grinning._

_It took out its tongue, crawling across his face like snake, feeling like razors running across his skin._

_‘’Funny how you thought you could escape,’’ the monster said, its voice like a hiss. ‘’With those tiny little legs of yours.’’_

_The man started to shake but the beast wrapped its talons around his neck._

_‘’Please let me go,’’ Gus begged. ‘’Please, please.’’_

_The monster grinned. ‘’Sure.’’_

_Gus couldn’t believe it when he let him down. He had to look back when he started walking away._

_And then he started running._

_‘’On second thought.’’_

_Gus felt something spear him right through the abdomen. He felt his throat constrict and blood gurgling out of his mouth._

_Gus fell on the floor. For some reason he thought about the girl he saw at the 7/11. She wasn’t much to look at, she wasn’t really all that entertaining. He just thought about how he always saw her Friday morning when went to buy his smokes as he did every single Friday. He thought about how it never crossed his mind that this might be his last Friday._

_He fell on the floor, gurgling blood looking up at the beast._

_‘’What are you?’’ he said, barely able to choke out the words._

_‘’I’ve learned quite a few English words from my host’s vocabulary,’’ the beast said. ‘’Chaos, Disaster. But none seem to stick the landing quite as well as Carnage.’’_

_…_

‘’Weak little Bat,’’ the monster said in a whisper. ‘’What can you do without your little toys?’’

The monster leapt. Batman tensed up ready for whatever was coming but before he could react it disappeared.

‘’Lonely little Bat,’’ Carnage said. ‘’No bird to watch his back.’’

Batman felt claws above him grab his cape, he immediately disconnected it as the floated in the air like dust particles, back and forth.

‘’No wings to fly with.’’

There was a slash as a burning pain seared through his back, like a hot knife across his skin. He swung back but only punched air.

‘’No soul to live with.’’

Red hot pain burned across his chest. Three jagged lines cut across his chest, slicing through the Bat’s wings and a clean line right through its head.

‘’And no heart to fight with.’’

He was tackled across the room like a paperweight, hurled across the rotten crates and concrete pillars. Blood red tendrils pinned him down on the floor as the beast opened its gaping maw revealing a forest of teeth.

‘’No Carny,’’ he heard. Batman struggled to break his arms free, struggled to move as the beast looked confused. ‘’No bad boy. We don’t eat Batman.’’

Carny opened its mouth to eat but the blood red mask peeled away revealing the Joker’s pale face.

‘’Down boy, down,’’ Joker said. ‘’We can’t eat him now, he’s too interesting to die.’’

Batman felt the tendrils loosen their grip around his arms. Despite the pain he punched Joker across the face.

‘’Ow,’’ Joker cried but like a bandage to an open wound Carny snapped over his face.

‘’You’ll pay for that,’’ Carnage said.

Carnage stepped towards the wounded Batman, like a cat playing with a dead mouse, the beast wanted to savour every moment.

The beast stopped. ‘’What’s that sound?’’

The Batmobile crashed straight into the monster, rubble hailing down upon them and splinters raining on the ground. Red spread across the Batmobile, crawling out of it like a snake. Rain poured down from the Batmobile sized hole in the roof.

‘’I’m going to rip you apart,’’ Carny said. ‘’I’m going to…’’

Carny couldn’t finish its sentence as fire roared from the boosters of the Batmobile, both Joker and Carnage screeching in pai as Carnage tried to tear away from the flames.

Carnage thrashed wildly, tentacles splaying around and thrashing at anything around it like sledgehammers.

But Batman wasn’t done yet.

‘’Batmobile set to self-destruct in T minus five seconds.’’

Batman made a run for it, grappling on the roof and boosting away.

‘’Four seconds.’’

Carnage tore through the Batmobile’s engine, the fire stopped.

He swung his head around looking for his prey and saw him up the roof.

‘’Three seconds.’’

Carnage reached out with his claws. ‘’You can’t.’’

He grabbed his leg and pulled down.

‘’Two seconds.’’

Carnage grinned. ‘’You won’t get away.’’

Batman tried tugging his leg away but he couldn’t.

‘’One second.’’

The Batmobile screeched in harmony with Carnage as the warehouse was engulfed in flames. The explosion knocked Batman forward, the dirt greeted him as he fell.

Batman switched on his comms.

‘’Alfred,’’ he said through a hoarse whisper. ‘’Alfred. Send help.’’

Bruce Wayne’s hand fell limply to his side as blood poured out of the hole where his left leg used to be.

…

_The man was planted right in the middle of a sea of corpses. Blood stained his hands as he crawled away from the mess of organs and limbs. The man remembered all of it, the killings and the screaming. He remembered the fear in their faces and the blood that came spurting out of them like a fountain._

_The man crawled to the riverbed to see what he had become._

…

‘’What happened to her?’’ Peter said, almost out of breath, his body shaking.

Dick had a pale look on his face. ‘’It was the Joker.’’

‘’The…’’ Peter could barely mouth the words. ‘’Oh, oh god. Is she okay? Please tell me that she’s okay.’’

Dick sighed. ‘’She is.’’

‘’Why does the look on your face say otherwise?’’

Dick looked down on the floor then at Pete, barely able to meet his eyes. ‘’The doctors said she might not be able to walk again.’’

Peter placed a hand on his mouth, staring at Dick in utter disbelief. ’’No, no, no.’’

Dick looked at his friend barely able to hold back tears. He saw the guilt tearing apart his face and the hurt shake his body

‘’First my Aunt,’’ Peter said. ‘’Now this.’’

‘’What happened to your Aunt?’’

‘’The Vulture he…’’ Peter stopped then looked away. ‘’There’s something I have to tell you.’’

There’s something I have to tell you too Pete, Dick thought. There’s something I have to tell you too.

‘’I… I want to see her,’’ Peter said.

‘’You sure…’’

‘’I want to see her, Dick,’’ Peter said, firmly, staring at Dick with a ferocious intensity in his eyes.

Dick sighed. ‘’Okay follow me.’’

Dick led him through winding white corridors of doctors dressed in white, of patients sitting on wheelchairs all the while turning back to see his friend, guilt eating at his heart at what he was about to do.

‘’This is the room.’’

Peter stood in front of the door. Conflicting feelings flooding his body. Pain, sadness and guilt. Mainly guilt. If only he was there, if only he’d waited with her. None of this would’ve happened. With a shaky hand he opened the door and with heavy legs he walked in.

Into an empty room.

Peter turned around. ‘’What the hell is this?’’

He saw Dick sighing, tears falling down his face. ‘’I’m sorry Pete.’’

‘’Dick what the fuck are you doing?’’ Peter said, clenching his fists. ‘’Where the hell is Barbara?’’

‘’I’m so sorry Pete.’’

‘’Is this some sick prank?’’ Peter said. ‘’What the hell is going on with you?’’

‘’I did what I had to.’’

Peter pushed Dick. ‘’What the hell is that supposed to mean? Huh?’’ He pushed Dick again and Dick slammed against the wall. ‘’WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?’’

The door slammed shut, gas started inching from the corners. Peter ran to the door, ready to rip it off its hinges but his body already felt heavy. He could barely pull the door open as his hand fell off the hinges.

The world around him was hazy. The last thing he saw was Dick, wearing a gas mask mouthing I’m sorry.

…

_In the grey river he saw his face. It was a face he barely recognised._

_His face was a pale white, his mouth stretched into a permanent grin. His hair was green like the chemicals in those vats. The man had always wanted to be a comedian, the world was too funny not to be one but now, now he looked like a clown._

_The man chuckled._

_That was funny._

_He chuckled even more, chuckling and chuckling until he erupted into a fit of laughter._

_A clown, oh my god he was a clown._

_He felt something crawling up his back, like a horde of tarantulas it crawled, slowly covering him in blood. Blood that felt like mucus._

_Soon his entire face was covered by a monster. A monster with empty eyes and dagger like teeth. Together the man and the monster laughed and laughed. Laughed and laughed and laughed._

_They laughed together like two companions, two best friends sharing an inside joke._

To be continued…


	19. Chapter 18

* * *

**_7 years ago_ **

_The clock struck midnight when Master Bruce came in with that hideous bat-suit, blood pouring out of his side._

_‘’Alfred,’’ Master Bruce said in barely a whisper, collapsing on the floor._

_Alfred ran to him, picking him up as Master Bruce leaned on his shoulder._

_‘’Ten years of training and you still can’t avoid a bullet,’’ Alfred sighed, as he patched up the bullets and started stitching._

_After stopping the bleeding and successfully removing the bullet, Master Bruce still opted to keep fighting the following night. It wasn’t the first night he’d come with life threatening injuries. There was one night where he had gotten stabbed by a mugger that got in a lucky shot, another where a bullet grazed his shoulder. It was reckless and dangerous and dishonoured everything the Wayne family stood for and on that night, Alfred had had enough._

_Master Wayne had his back turned to him. A back lined with bruises and scars from just 6 months of doing whatever Master Bruce thought he was doing. He put on that shirt with that bat like symbol over his bloodied bandages and then put on his mask._

_‘’Don’t you think you’ve had enough?’’ Alfred asked._

_‘’What was that, Alfred?’’_

_‘’All those wounds,’’ Alfred said. ‘’All those long nights not knowing whether or not you’ll see tomorrow? Don’t you think you’ve had enough of those?’’_

_‘’Where’s this coming from?’’_

_‘’Many years ago, I took an oath, Master Wayne,’’ Alfred said. ‘’An oath to protect the Wayne family if it cost me my life.’’_

_‘’I don’t need any protection Alfred, I’m…’’_

_Alfred raised a hand. ‘’Let me finish. I wasn’t there…’’ Alfred looked aside and closed his eyes. ‘’I wasn’t there for your parents but I can be there for you.’’_

_‘’You can be there by waiting here while I…’’_

_‘’Why do you do this, Master Wayne?’’ Alfred asked. ‘’Why do you risk your life out there when your talents can be used for the better? Your intelligence rivals that of both your mother and father and with the resources you have at your disposal you can clearly make Gotham a much better place yet you choose to… to squander those resources to make weapons in this pointless crusade. You’ve pushed away any chance at happiness, hurt many women who loved you and for what, Master Wayne?’’_

_‘’You know why Alfred, my p…’’_

_‘’Master Thomas and Madame Martha have already been avenged.’’ Master Bruce was taken aback, Alfred had never raised his voice at him. The Pennyworths were never supposed to raise their voices at their masters yet here Alfred was, raising his voice and breaking a code passed down through generations. ‘’You’ve seen Joe Chill. You’ve seen the bastard that killed your parent grovelling at your feet begging for forgiveness. You can’t keep using your parents as an excuse.’’_

_‘’They loved this city-’’_

_‘’I know Master Bruce,’’ Alfred said. ‘’But that doesn’t mean that they’d go around dressed up like bats beating up criminals. You’re dishonouring their legacy.”_

_“I’m dishonouring their legacy by doing nothing,” Bruce snapped. Alfred was taken aback. Bruce leaned over and sighed. “Back when mum and dad were still…” Bruce looked aside like he did when he was about to cry as a little boy. “People like Falcone and the Maronies they hid in the shadows. They were scared of being caught. The people of Gotham were upright. Now they can walk around these streets without being scared, without anyone daring to challenge them. Hell, Carmine Falcone killed a man in a restaurant and the cops didn’t do anything about it. No amount of money can cure the corruption in this city. Hell, it’ll only make it worse. Falcone and Maroni need to know the fear that they prey on. They need to know what it’s like to be helpless.’’_

_Alfred sighed. It was a sigh of defeat. “Very well, I know I won’t be able to stop you. You’re stubborn just like your father.’’_

_“Thank you, Alfred.”_

_“But I’m scared, Master Bruce.”_

_“Scared of what?”_

_“That this thing, this crusade of yours will cost you,” Alfred said._

_“Cost me what?”_

_“Something you can’t replace.”_

_…_

The heart rate monitor in the clinic of Leslie Thompkins beat steadily. The oxygen masked fogged up with each of Master Bruce’s heavy breaths. Blood-stained bandages covered the wounds Master Bruce had sustained from his most recent fight from The Joker. Wounds that would easily heal save for the lump that once was his leg.

“Is he alright?” Ms. Thompkins asked as she walked into the room, wearing a lab coat and green doctor overalls.

“Physically, yes,” Alfred said. “His wounds are healing and the bleeding has stopped. Psychologically…”

“I told him,” Leslie said. “All those times I told him that one day there’ll be something even I won’t even be able to patch up and now…”

Leslie placed a hand on her mouth and sobbed. Alfred got up and hugged her.

“Oh, Alfred,” Leslie said. “The poor boy. I-I don’t know he’ll take it.”

“He’ll be fine,” Alfred said. “He’s stubborn, just like his father. He won’t stay down.”

“Is it wrong that I want him to stop?” Leslie asked. “Before he hurts himself even more?”

Alfred was silent and then he said something in barely a whisper. “I want him to stop too.”

…

The first thing Peter saw was a black roof. The first thing Peter tried to do was move but an electric shock ran through his body causing him to keel over.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Robin said. “Try to move or break out and it’ll send 300 Volts coursing through your body.”

Peter looked around and saw he was trapped in a prison cell of some sort. Thick walls of steel surrounded him on three sides and in front of him with lines of huge grey bars was a glass window through which Peter saw Robin.

“Where the hell am I?” Peter said, looking through the glass he saw a murky grey rock surface and stalactites drooping from the roof. He seemed to be in some sort of cave. “Where’s Dick?”

“He’s… not here.”

“What’d you do to him?”

“Nothing,” Robin said. “He…”

“Let me guess your bat daddy scared him into leading me into that trap,” Peter said. “Is everything about Barbara a lie too?”

“No, she’s in the hospital,” Robin said.

“Is she…?” Peter said, his voice softer.

“She’s recovering but…” There was a pause Peter dread. “She might not walk again.”

“Oh god,” Peter said.

There was a silence save for the soft screeching of bats.

“Can I go see her?” Peter asked. “Please I…”

Robin couldn’t meet his eyes. “No, I’m sorry.”

And there was actual remorse in his voice.

“What am I doing here?” Peter asked after a short silence.

“Batman told me if he didn’t make it after a few hours I was supposed to bring you here,” Robin said. “And tell you everything we know about the Joker’s plan.”

“And what’s that?”

Robin sighed. “Well, a few nights ago…”

_Ulysses Klaue, one of the mercenaries hired to take care of the weapons sat with his leg across the table. He’d been at this job for a few odd years in what was basically a fortress. First time around, security wasn’t all that tight. His odd little crew was armed with flamethrowers and radios in case the weapons decided to act a little feisty but after that reporter ran off with one of the prime samples, more mercenaries were hired and security was tightened. And after that dumbass in the red hood ran off with the artificial weapon, they basically buried him and his boys underground. Now Klaue was underneath a massive underground vault with a bunch of aliens that could snap at him in a minute’s notice._

_Ulysses Klaue was alone, stationed right in front of the massive vault behind which was actual alien life. Things scientists and philosophers have been debating the existence off for decades and here he was drinking coffee in front of it. As head of security Klaue had to call the rest of the mercenaries regularly._

_“Section 1.”_

_“Clear,” said Zack._

_“Section 2.”_

_“Clear boss,” said William._

_“Section 3.”_

_“Clear Mr. Klaue,” said Jack._

_“Section 4.”_

_“Clearrr,” said Sal._

_“Section 5.”_

_“You know it,” said Isaac._

_He had to do this every single hour. It got monotonous but at least the job paid well._

_He was busy watching some shitty romcom when the hour mark had passed. He called Zack._

_“Section 1.”_

_Silence._

_“Hello, Section 1?”_

_Suddenly the comms buzzed. It was section 2._

_“Boss there’s something here you gotta call…”_

_Static._

_Klaue was about to call ACE but the phone line was cut. Whoever had attacked them was smart and very prepared. Klaue took out his machine gun, keeping the barrel steady with his prosthetic hand as he waited for what was about happen._

_“Section 3,” he said through the comm._

_All he heard was the fuzz of a radio and gunfire. “It’s Bat-”_

_There was the sound of heavy fists and then static._

_“Section 4.”_

_“Oh, Jesus lord in heaven,” Sal said whimpering. There was a whoosh of air and the last thing Klaue heard was Sal’s screams._

_“S-Section 5.”_

_All Klaue heard was footsteps and the walkie-talkie being crushed under a pair of heavy boots._

_Klaue’s hands were shaking as he steadied his gun. The only way to the vault was one doorway so all Klaue had to do was fire away, right._

_Klaue had his gun trained on the door. He took a deep breath and focused blocking out the sound of the generator rumbling or the air conditioner blowing cold air. He steadied himself ready to plough whoever it was with a whole lot of lead._

_The generator stopped and the lights went off._

_The emergency generator didn’t go off. Sirens blared and red light flashed across the vault room in a hypnotic pattern of black and red._

_The door opened and Klaue fired madly. Bullets bouncing off the surfaces, gunfire flashing in his face. Standing by the door, seemingly unscathed was the Batman, the red light of the siren looking like bloodstains on his black costume._

_Klaue fired again and again but the Batman just walked, coming closer and closer like an evil spirit until he slammed his face against the table, coffee spilling all over the floor._

_“What do you know about Ababas Liamsi?”_

_“Nothing,” Klaue whimpered. “I know nothing.”_

_“You know nothing about the dummy account used to pay enough money to clear Ababas’s debts in order to smuggle Vibranium weapons?” Batman asked. “Nothing about the funds that can be traced right back to you.”_

_Klaue shook his head._

_Batman grabbed his right hand. “Talk or you’ll lose your other good hand.”_

_“I refuse.”_

_Batman slowly tugged at his hand, pain flaring up his arm like a slow river current._

_“Okay, okay,” Klaue squealed. “You know Wakanda right? What people don’t know is that the place is a fucking technological paradise. They have weapons and shit you can only dream off. That third world country shit is all a big cover up so that nobody knows about the Vibranium goldmine buried under the capitol.”_

_“How do you know all this?”_

_Klaue smirked. “See my left arm.”_

_“How people like them can build shit like…”_

_“Get to the point,” Batman said, pulling at his arms._

_“Okay, okay,” Klaue said. “I knew Liamsi from some jobs I had over at Africa. Knew he was a dumbass who took lots of risks. After one too many security breaches over here, higherups were getting antsy. They couldn’t risk their big secret getting out. What’s more, we didn’t know shit about these aliens. What if they come back for revenge or something? Those aliens don’t respond well to loud noises and fire and it was my idea that we smuggle some sound based weapons in from Wakanda. It was under wraps of course and it was my money going in but Liamsi and I struck a deal. Bastard managed to get the weapons without the royal guard finding out and managed to smuggle it here. Unfortunately for us that clown found out.”_

_“Thank you,” Batman said._

_“Am I off the hook.”_

_Batman broke Klaue’s arm. “Yes.”_

_Klaue screamed in pain, keeling over on the floor as the alarms blared and the Batman’s footsteps receded._

“If the Joker knows about the locations of those aliens, we have reason to believe that he wants to release them into Gotham,” Robin said. “As some kind of revenge against ACE or whatever.”

“Aliens?” Peter said. “You expect me to believe there’s alien life buried underneath a scummy chemical company?”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw what that thing did to Barbara,” Robin said.

“What thing?”

“Intel says the Joker managed to bond with one of those aliens,” Robin said. “An artificial one but it has the same properties as the real deal.”

“So, a maniac like the Joker is still out there bonded with some kind of alien and you’re just sitting around here doing nothing?”

“We have to wait for Batman.”

“FORGET BATMAN,” Peter growled. He got up and moved his hands but an electric shock coursed through his body causing him to fall on one knee. “Barbara is in the hospital because of that clown and you think the best thing to do is to just sit around?”

“There’s a lot we don’t know!”

“Like what?” Peter snapped. “Those things, those aliens are weak to fire and sound! You told me that! I thought you were supposed to do the right thing! Well, is sitting around waiting for Batman the right thing? Is manipulating my best friend to bring me here the right thing? Is tying me up with this…” Peter moved his hand and electricity coursed through him again. “The right thing?”

Robin was silent.

“Tell me.”

Robin looked away.

“TELL ME!”

There was a pause.

“No,” Robin said. “No, it isn’t”

Robin pressed a button on his gauntlet and the gauntlets fell to the floor. Peter moved and electricity didn’t course through his body much to his relief. Robin opened the locks to his cell. The door hissed open. Peter hesitated to step out, expecting some sort of trap but his spider sense didn’t sense any.

Peter stepped out. Peter decided to punch Robin across his face, just for good measure.

“You asshole.”

Robin rubbed his cheek. “I deserved that.”

“How the hell do I get out of here?”

“Wouldn’t advise that,” Robin said. “We’re very far away from the main city.”

Peter found his web shooters on a table. “Dammit I’m out of juice.”

“You asked me about the right thing?”

“Do you have a lab?” Peter asked. “I’ll need some juice, maybe build another one of these.” Peter tapped his web shooters.

“I’ve been Robin for 5 years,” Robin said. “I thought it was fun beating up criminals but when Two-Face beat the shit out of me I realised that this wasn’t all fun and games.”

“Look,” Peter said. “I don’t care about your life story.”

“Look, Pete can a guy have his moment?”

Peter paused. “Wait.” There was only one person who called him Pete.

Robin smirked. “Good, I got your attention. As the job went on, I saw a side to my mentor. He was obsessed with this job. Batman was who he was. Made me realise I don’t want to end up like him. I don’t want to be like him.”

Robin turned to him. “You asked me about the right thing? I’ve been keeping secrets from you Peter.”

Robin took out his mask.

“And I’m tired of that.”

…

**_19 Years ago_ **

_Master Bruce stood still looking at the huge picture of his parents that hung over the fireplace._

_“Master Bruce it’s time for the funeral,” Alfred said. “Are you dressed?”_

_Master Bruce turned to Alfred, tears streaming down his eyes. “It’s my fault, Alfred. I wasn’t strong enough.”_

_“No, no Master Bruce,” Alfred said kneeling down._

_“I was scared of the bats and and…”_

_Alfred embraced his young master. He could feel him shaking._

_“I was the one who took them outside,” Bruce said. “If only I… if only I…”_

_“Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “There was something your father told me when you were a child. When I was at my lowest. He asked me why we fall? I didn’t know the answer and he told me what it was.”_

_“What… what was it?” Bruce asked through muffled sobs, his eyes shining with tears._

_“So that we can climb right back up.”_

_Bruce wiped his tears. Alfred carried him up, holding him close._

_“Let’s get you ready,” Alfred said. “Your parents wouldn’t want to see you like this. After this I’ll teach you how to fight.”_

_Alfred held the young Master close._

_“So that you never have to be scared again.”_

_…_

Bruce stumbled to the ground, his body racked with sweat, his muscles sore.

“Master Bruce are you alright?” Alfred said, rushing toward him.

The makeshift prosthetic rolled on the floor, bobbing back and forth.

Bruce pushed aside Alfred’s hand. “This is useless, Alfred. I should be out there, not here.”

“You still have to recover Master Bruce, you can’t just…”

“You think the Joker will just sit around waiting for me to recover?” Bruce snapped. “You think I’m stupid, Alfred? The TV has no signal in my room and they aren’t any newspapers or radios around. I know you don’t want me to see what’s happening out there?”

“It will hamper your recovery!”

“To hell with that,” Bruce growled. “This city is dying; these people are dying and you expect me to sit here while it happens. My parents…”

“What do you know about what your parents want?” Alfred snapped. Bruce was taken aback. “For far too long I’ve been hearing you use your parents as an excuse when you and I both know your parents wouldn’t want you to do this. You’re blatantly dishonouring your family legacy. What will it take for you to realise that this job is harming you, harming both yourself and your relationships?”

“Alfred I…”

“Even after you lose a limb you decide to keep putting yourself in harms way,” Alfred said. “Why? Why do you keep doing this?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce snapped, saying it loudly that it echoed across the room. “I don’t know,” Bruce said, softly this time.

“This city has changed,” Bruce said. “Changed so much its barely recognisable. No matter how much I kept beating them the Falcone’s came back. When we finally did beat them, we lost Harvey and Cobblepot took over the streets. And more and more of these freaks keep coming out. Clayface, Mad Hatter, Riddler. This city creates freaks, takes broken people and turns them cruel and no matter what you do, more and more keep coming out of the woodwork. And it keeps happening and it never gets easier. No matter what I do as Batman and Bruce Wayne this city still finds a way to corrupt it. My parents had hope in this city, in what it could become but I can’t see it anymore Alfred. I can’t.”

Master Bruce looked at Alfred with a pleading look in his eyes and for a brief moment Alfred saw an eight-year-old boy crying in his arms.

“I don’t know why I do what I do anymore, Alfred,” Bruce said. “I don’t know why I keep fighting.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “He’s killing them.”

“What?”

“The Joker,” Alfred said. “He’s using those alien things, those symbiotes to kill ACE employees.”

“What does this have to do with…”

“Those ACE employees aren’t saints,” Alfred said. “I’ve read your files. I know who they are and what they did but there was one employee that caught my eye.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “Edward Lang. Good scientist, he worked at ACE for a long time. Edward wasn’t paid very well, probably why he lost his divorce case.”

“How do you know about that?”

“That computer of yours possibly violates every privacy right on this planet,” Alfred said. “Anyways, poor Edward Michaels took very long nights off for his daughter. Finally caught his big break when ACE unveiled their secret project. He was compensated well, enough to share the custody of his daughter.” Alfred paused. “Now I don’t condone what he’s done but when the Joker forced one of those things on him, all that was left was a dried husk. I still remember his screams and I bet thousands of Gothamites do too. After all it was broadcasted on live TV. I bet his daughter also saw what had happened to her father or at least heard about it.”

“I remember in your early days I had found files buried in that cave of yours all about the man who had murdered your parents,” Alfred said. “I remember the vengeance in your eyes when you found him. They were the eyes of a killer. You were just about to kill him, weren’t you? Until you saw his son.”

Bruce was quiet. He looked aside, ashamed.

“You handed him to the authorities, he was a shambling mess, wasn’t he?” Alfred said. “He recognised you just by looking at your eyes, didn’t he?”

“What does that…” Bruce interrupted.

Alfred raised a hand. “Unfortunately, the Falcone’s got to him. They killed him right in front of his child. And you saw the boy’s expression. You remember it, don’t you? You remember it very well. After all it was the expression you saw every morning in the mirror after your parents died. Jerry Chill couldn’t avenge his parents but you could. Flash forward two years later. You remember why you took Master Richard in?”

Bruce was quiet. Alfred smiled. “Of course, you do.”

“What does this have to do with Edward Michaels?”

“Poor Amy Michaels can’t avenge her father,” Alfred said. “But the Batman can.”

…

“I should’ve punched you harder,” Peter said. He tried to look confident but no amount of false confidence could hide the pain in his heart. “I… you…”

“Peter I can explain,” Dick said.

“I DON’T NEED YOUR DAMN EXPLANATIONS!” Peter snapped, pointing a finger at Dick. “You were my friend. My only friend in this godforsaken city and all of it was a lie.” Peter paused. His hand fell limply on his side. “Was Barbara… Is she…?”

“Yes,” Dick said. “She’s Batgirl.”

Peter felt his heart tug at its strings. He felt weak in the knees. “So, all of it was a lie?”

“No, Pete,” Dick said. “Barbara, I’ve known her forever. I can tell by the way she looks at you, she loves you.” Dick didn’t want to admit it to himself but it was true, no matter how much it hurt.

“For what its worth,” Dick said. “I still consider you a friend.”

“Then why did you lie?” Peter said. “You’ve seen everything I’ve been through. You could have been there for me!”

“I…” Dick said. “We owe him more than that. We can’t just…”

“Oh wow,” Peter said. “Wow. So, you didn’t trust me with the big man’s name.”

“It’s not that… I…”

“You sound just like him,” Peter said.

“Don’t say that,” Dick snapped. “Don’t you dare say that!”

Dick sighed, leaning over a table. “Sorry. It’s just…”

Dick looked Peter firmly in the eye. “Barbara and I didn’t want this. We tried but he objected. He never listens. He wanted to test you, he wanted to know why you do what you do.” Dick hesitated. “He thought you’re doing it as a joke.”

Peter let out a dry laugh. “Oh wow. Oh wow, he thinks I _want_ this. A joke huh? My uncle dying’s really hilarious.”

“He takes the job seriously,” Dick said. “There was a time where it was just something, he did in his spare time but now he’s… obsessed and he’s dragging everybody down with him. I was the one who told him that we shouldn’t have dragged Barbara with us but he… God they both didn’t listen and now…”

Dick walked over to Peter, a hand on his shoulder. Peter pulled his shoulder back.

“I don’t expect you to trust me, not anymore,” Dick said. “Just don’t blame Barbara, okay. She didn’t want any of this to happen to you. She and I, we both cared about you Pete. For worth it’s worth, I hated keeping this all from you. I hated every damn second of it. I don’t know what happened to Bruce but he’s changed.”

“Bruce?” Peter asked. “Like, Bruce Wayne?”

Dick nodded. “Yeah. I don’t care what he says, I just can’t lie anymore.”

“So that invitation…?”

“Yeah,” Dick said, downtrodden. A shadow over his face. “That was all a lie…”

On Peter’s face there was a smile but his eyes told a different story. “He was right.” Peter scoffed. “Never meet your heroes.”

…

**_14 years ago_ **

_“You’re leaving Master Bruce?”_

_Master Bruce was dressed in simple clothes. A shirt and cargo pants. He was carrying a simple briefcase which Alfred believed only contained the essentials._

_“Yes,” Master Bruce said. “This city is changing. It no longer looks like the city my father raised me in. The people just keep getting poorer, desolate and more vulnerable and what the Wayne Foundation is doing doesn’t seem to be enough. I can’t just sit by and let it happen but I know I can’t change this on my own.”_

_Alfred nodded. “I understand Master Bruce. I shall tend to the manor awaiting your return.”_

_“I won’t be returning for a while, Al,” Master Bruce said. “And I… don’t think I’ll be the same man. You’re free to leave.”_

_“Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “18 years ago, I heard your crying echoing down the halls. Your father placed you in my arms and told me, if it comes down to me and the boy and you have to choose one life to save. You choose his. I watched you grow up these past 18 years and…” Alfred choked. He wiped his eyes with a gloved hand. “See I never had a child. All the women in my life could see my loyalties lay elsewhere.” Alfred chuckled. “And you, Master Bruce is the closest thing I have to a child. I swore on that day to have your back in whatever endeavour you chose and I still stand by that oath. You can leave, Master Bruce but know your home will always be here.”_

_Master Bruce did something very uncharacteristic. He hugged Alfred._

_“Thanks, Al,” Bruce said. They separated. Alfred saw his young master off at the airport. 7 years later Master Bruce would return a changed man. His body stouter and his eyes like stone._

_On the night of June 26, Master Bruce wore the cowl and gave Alfred a choice. To serve or to leave._

_Alfred chose to serve._

…

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Bruce said. “I can’t just sit by and watch while the Joker does whatever he wants.”

“But Master Bruce, the technology is experimental?” Alfred said. “It could cause paralysis; you may not be able to walk again let alone move.”

“I know that but I can’t waste a second,” Bruce said. “I can’t let the Joker do whatever he pleases.”

“Very well, as long as you’re aware of the risks.”

On the dressing table there was a sleek metal plated leg. It was painted a pitch black with the grooves in between the plates a yellow. To Alfred it looked more like a pair of metal boots rather than a prosthetic. Next to it was a chip with little sharp spikes sticking out from the bottom like the legs of a millipede.

The chip wirelessly connected to the metal boots. The sharp spikes at the bottom of the chip were meant to stimulate certain neural interfaces in the spine and the brain and allow effortless movement of the leg. It was very advanced technology by one of Wayne Enterprises top scientists but still very experimental in nature.

Master Bruce put the prosthetic on his left leg. He got up, stumbling on the floor but still able to move, albeit by limping.

“Pass me the chip,” Master Bruce said.

“Are you sure about this?”

Master Bruce nodded.

Alfred hesitantly handed over the chip to Master Bruce. Master Bruce didn’t flinch as the spikes penetrated the middle of his neck, atop the spinal cord. He pressed the microchip and it burrowed itself in his neck. Master Bruce let out a yelp of pain and knelt on the floor, Alfred holding him up. The prosthetic let out a hum as it too clamped itself around Master Bruce’s thigh, a yellow light flashing on to life.

 **“NEURAL CONNECTION ESTABLISHED TO LEFT LEG,”** droned a robotic voice. **“PLEASE TRY TAKING A STEP.”**

Master Bruce turned to face Alfred, giving him a confident nod. Alfred was hesitant but he let go as Master Bruce took a step. It was a tentative step with lots of effort put behind it like his leg was wrapped in lead. Master Bruce stumbled as he tried to move his right leg but somehow still managed to take a step.

He moved, again and again each step more confident than the last.

 **“NEURAL CONNECTION SUCCESSFULLY ESTABLISHED,”** droned the voice. “ **PLEASE TRY JOGGING.”**

Master Bruce took a jog, though at first hesitant like a cat around water soon he was jogging and soon after he started running. And soon after he turned around and kicked the wall, causing it to crumble on the floor.

“Interesting,” Bruce said.

“You know we have to pay for that, right?” Alfred said. “Not that money is a problem.”

**“CONNECTION COMPLETE.”**

**…**

“I looked up to him, you know,” Peter said. “I was orphaned too, believe it or not. It hurt, losing my parents but seeing a man as successful as him made me hope. Made me believe that it’d be alright. Can’t believe he turned out like this.”

Peter sat on a chair. Dick sat next to him.

“He wasn’t always like this, you know?” Dick said. “He took me in when I was a kid. When I lost my parents. The first thing he told me was ‘I know what it feels like’. It made me feel less alone. Now it seems all he’s doing is isolating himself. Keeping us at a distance.”

There was a silence between them. “I don’t expect this to mend things but I kept things from you because I owe him. I owe him a lot. After my parents died, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. He gave me a home, food and took me in without a single qualm. And he let me deal with the man who killed my parents. To me, that was the world and I owe him for that.”

Dick sighed. “But at the same time, I don’t want to end up like him. Keeping things from you, lying at you. That’s not me. That’ll never be me. That’s who _he_ is and I don’t want to end up like him.”

Dick sighed. “The Joker has ACE holed up. Him and some goons and some guy called the Vulture are armed to the teeth with Vibranium weapons and nobody can go in. Nobody except us.”

“So, what are we waiting for?”

“Your web-shooters,” Dick said. “I checked, one of them is broken and the other is out of juice. And that suit of yours? Won’t last very long. You’re going to need a new one.”

Dick smirked. “And I know just the right person to ask.”

…

Peter woke up the next morning with a terrible headache. His vision was fuzzy and he was seeing the world in twos. Peter shook his head to see that he was tied up on a chair, again. Trapped in the same cage, only this time instead of Dick on the other side of the cage it was the Batman.

…

“You compromised the investigation,” Bruce growled, towering over Dick, his face contorted with rage. “You gave away your identity, my identity. Dick, what the hell were you thinking?”

“Investigation?” Dick snapped. “Investigation? So that was what he was to you, a fucking lab experiment?”

“That doesn’t matter, what matters…”

“Did you even visit Barbara?” Dick interrupted. “Did you? Do you know that she might not even walk again?”

Bruce was silent.

“Remember 2 years ago when I told you that we shouldn’t drag Barbara down into our mess?” Dick asked. “Remember when I said that and you ignored me. You knew how dangerous things were but you still brought her in, didn’t you?”

“Barbara wouldn’t listen to me,” Bruce said. “She wouldn’t listen to you, either.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Dick said. “You could have easily told Commissioner Gordon and he would have made sure she didn’t do anything but you still dragged her into our dangerous mess.” Dick scoffed. “Trained her, even. But when she needs you the most you don’t even visit her. No, the only thing you care about is your damn investigation.”

“Did you visit her?” Bruce asked

“Oh, you don’t get to play that card,” Dick said. “You’re the one who made me lie to my friend to drag him all the way here. You’re the one who chose to face off against that monster, oh, by the way how’s that leg?”

Dick clenched his fist. “Oh, and did you see Gordon’s face? Your best friend’s face? He blamed himself Bruce. It was our fault but he blamed himself.”

Bruce was silent.

“Say something, you asshole,” Dick snapped. “SAY SOMETHING!”

Bruce was silent.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you these past few years,” Dick said. “But I’m tired. I’m tired of you not listening to me, I’m tired of lying and I’m tired of you running away. After this, I’m leaving. I’m done being Robin. I’m done being your little soldier. Don’t you ever, ever contact me again. We’re through. After this, Batman and Robin is through.”

…

“Why do you do what you do?” Batman asked.

“I’m not going to answer that,” Spider-Man said. “Especially not after what you did to my friend.”

“I’ll wait,” Batman said, taking a chair and sitting in front of him. “I have all the time in the world.”

“You’re just going to let those people die?” Spider-Man asked.

“The GCPD has it handled,” Batman said. “I informed them about a possible weakness.”

“That still won’t be enough,” Spider-Man said. “Dick told me about the monster. He also told me about the Vulture’s new upgrades.”

Batman was silent.

“You’re not going to wait, are you?” Spider-Man said. “You can’t. It’d be wrong. No, you can’t wait and let things happen.”

“Neither can you.”

Spider-Man chuckled. Then laughed. Then let out a scream. “Let me the hell out of here.” He tried moving but an electric shock caused him to fall on the floor.

“Not until you tell me why you do it.”

“Dammit,” Spider-Man growled. “You’re an asshole, Bruce. You know that? Using me like that in the ball and know this. God, I can’t believe I looked up to you.”

“Why do you do it?” Batman said calmly, as if nothing had happened.

“Let me out,” Spider-Man said. Moving to the glass wall despite the electric current.

“Why do you do it?”

“LET ME OUT!”

Spider-Man slammed his head against the glass causing a crack but the electricity was too much for him. He curled up against the floor, blood running down his forehead.

There was a silence. A very long silence filled only by the screeching of bats.

“Why do you…”

“MY UNCLE OKAY!” Peter snapped. “It’s because of my uncle. A burglar got to him. He got shot and the bastard ran away while I was busy doing some stupid ass shows, my uncle got shot in the heart.” Peter chuckled. “And I obviously went after the bastard. With the things I could do, who wouldn’t? I was just about ready to… to kill him when I saw the face of the guy.”

Tears started forming in his eyes. “After a gig I was doing, I saw someone robbing one of the workers there and since I didn’t get the gig, I let that guy run free. That same guy who ran off with the money, that was the guy who killed my uncle.”

Tears started falling down Peter’s face as he thought about what happened. “My uncle used to say with great power comes great responsibility. I never knew what that meant. I was fifteen when I got bitten by that spider back in New York and with all those new powers I was stoked. Who wouldn’t be? After being thrown around by people bigger than you who wouldn’t be. I used that money to win wrestling matches which I then used to buy really expensive stuff without my uncle and aunt knowing. And then we moved to Gotham and I thought I could do it all over again but…”

Peter choked, letting out a stifled sob. “I never knew what that saying of my uncle meant when I saw his body. I only knew it when I saw who killed him.”

Peter got up. “After that, when an alarm bell rang or when I heard someone scream, I couldn’t look the other way. Not after what happened to my Uncle, never again. I couldn’t save my uncle, I never can but I can save them. I can save them, right?”

_Gun smoke. Pearls clattering on the floor. Knees weak, tears won’t stop._

“Why do you hide this from your Aunt?”

“I don’t want to worry her,” Peter said. “She worries about me a lot. She doesn’t want to lose me too. I wear the mask so that she doesn’t know it’s me. So that she doesn’t know it’s her nephew going around throwing himself into dangerous situations.”

“But what if you die?”

“I don’t want to die,” Peter said. “I don’t want to leave her alone. Lying to her, keeping this away from her hurts more than anything. Seeing her worry about me hurts more than anything but I can’t look the other way. I just can’t. Nobody deserves to go through the pain I did when I lost my uncle. Nobody.”

_A boy knelt over the corpses of his parents. He could feel their blood in his hands. He knew what he had to do._

Bruce Wayne walked away.

“Did that not satisfy you, huh?” Peter shouted. “You’re just going to leave me here?”

Peter felt the handcuffs hiss and loosen.

_A haunted man knelt before the boy who became a bat. Begging forgiveness. His son witnessing the guilt he locked away inside._

The door swung open. Bruce was standing in front of it. Peter threw a punch but Bruce dodged and held a leg up front causing him to trip.

“You’re sloppy,” Bruce said.

“You lock me up and torture me to get answers and the only thing you can say to me afterwards is that I’m sloppy?” Peter asked. “You have issues.”

“You’re going to have to be more disciplined,” Bruce said, walking away from Peter.

“If we’re going to be working together.”

_The man stood in front of the spider and realised why he became a bat._

…

The heart rate monitors beeped a comforting melody. Barbara Gordon’s breath fogged up her oxygen mask, her body against the bed, covered in blankets. Her window opened as Spider-Man crawled inside, the black spider symbol barely visible in the moon light. Peter Parker took out his mask. He webbed up a chair and sat by her side. Peter let out a heavy sigh.

“Hey, Barbara it’s me, Pete,” Peter said. He scratched his chin and looked away from her pale face. “I… I uh found out. About everything and I know you’re Batgirl and I… I don’t know how to feel about it. I know how much Bruce means to you but that didn’t mean… didn’t mean you had to lie to me. To hide things from me.”

Peter chuckled. “But who am I to talk? I’ve kept this whole Spider-Man thing from my Aunt for months now. Hell, I have so many missed calls from her after the whole Joker thing like you wouldn’t believe. I told her I was at Dick’s but she was positively fuming when I called back but hey, that’s Aunt May for you.”

Peter leaned back on the chair. “God I should just… yeah I should just get to the point.”

Peter felt tears forming in his eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry. If I’d stayed the Joker wouldn’t have gotten to you and you would’ve still been able to walk. I… I wish I could’ve been there. I wish I could’ve protected you. It’s all my damn fault and....” Peter placed a hand on hers. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Peter got up, placing the chair aside. He turned back, unable to face her. “I promise, I’ll get the bastard. I’ll mess up the Joker and that little pet of his. For you.”

Peter kissed her on the cheek before he jumped out of the window.

“I love you.”

…

“You ready, Bruce?” Dick asked. They were flying above ACE Chemicals, the Batwing humming as rain poured on it’s sleek black surface.

“Yes.”

“I sure as hell am ready,” Dick said. “What about you Peter?”

Peter landed atop the Batwing. The giant black spider symbol emblazoned across his torso shining in the lightning. His web-shooters filled to the brim with cartridges. His lenses looked like they were squinting as he zoomed into the ACE Chemicals compound making a mental note of the guards doing their patrol.

“Ready as always.”

“Let’s go,” Dick said.

…

The heart rate monitors beeped a comforting melody. Barbara Gordon’s breath fogged up her oxygen mask, her body against the bed, covered in blankets. Batman was by her side.

He looked at her, at her sunken pale face. At the droplets of blood that still caked her hands. He picked up a chair and sat by her side taking out his cowl, her hand in his gloved hand, his head hung down as if he was in mourning.

_To be continued…_


	20. FINALE

The mercenaries threw her down. The clown sauntered towards, a lot of exaggeration in his movements and kneeled down.

“Oh, this one will do nicely,” the Joker said, kneeling down and touching her chin. She winced as he grabbed her, the smell of his breath causing her to gag. “Klaue, haul your one-handed ass over here.”

Klaue came rushing in, holding a camera in his hand.

“State your name and occupation for the camera please,” Joker said.

“Please let me go,” she whimpered. “Please I have a family.

“Name and occupation, please.”

“Claire,” she said, her voice shaking. “Clair Sinclair. I work as a scientist for Project S.”

“Now, Clair please tell the folks at home what you did under project S?”

“P-Please.”

“Tell them what you do,” Joker said, his voice suddenly serious.

“I was in charge of h-h…” Claire could barely finish her sentence before she started breaking down and crying.

“Oh, come on Claire,” Joker said. “Don’t be such a diva. This isn’t reality TV.”

“H-h…” Claire fell on her knees. “Oh, mum, dad I’m so sorry.”

“H-H what?” Joker asked. “Are you shivering? It isn’t cold in here, is it?”

Joker turned to Klaue. “Did you turn the AC down?”

Klaue shook his head.

“C’mon Claire,” Joker said. “What were you in charge of?”

“Human experimentation,” Claire said, stifling out sobs. “I’m sorry,” she said to one in particular. “I didn’t have enough money and Nana needed treatment and…”

“What did I say about being a diva, Clair?” Joker said. “The folks out there won’t by it. They can tell you’re overacting. This isn’t an Indian Drama.”

“Steve, bring in the symbiote,” Joker called.

Steve came in with a cart, inside the cart a pink parasite ebbed and flowed, desperately trying to break free of the container.

“Pink, just for you,” Joker said. “Your friend, Stan told me you liked the colour pink.”

Joker clapped his hands. “There he is right now.”

Joker pointed to the corner of the human experiments room, at bodies with their eyes melted out and mouths wide open. Their bodies or what remained of them, grey husks and a black liquid staining their white lab coats.

Claire put a hand over her mouth. “Oh god, Stan.”

Claire was on her knees, tears dripping from her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s leave her and strawberry here,” Joker said. “C’mon boys let’s get out of here.”

The metal door hissed as their footsteps receded. As they left realisation dawned on Claire. She scrambled towards the door.

“No,” Claire cried, screaming. “Please let me out of here.”

Joker turned to Klaue. “C’mon Klaue you gotta capture this. The fear, the desperation and despair. She’s really giving it her all.”

The symbiote broke out of the container. Claire had her back to the door as it crawled towards her, sizing her up like a snake about to strike.

“Please let me go,” Claire whimpered. “Please, please.”

The symbiote struck, Claire jumped out of the way. She sprinted towards the glass screen, knocking her hands against it. “Please. Please.”

The Joker felt a familiar buzzing in his head.

“I told you Carny,” Joker mumbled. “Your daddy isn’t here.”

The symbiote lashed out like a whip. Claire dodged, landing amidst the rotting corpses of the scientists.

“Well how am I supposed to know where he is?” Joker said. “I’m not your babysitter.”

She crawled out of the mound of corpses, running away from the symbiote but the symbiote lashed out again, slashing her across the back. Claire landed on the ground as the symbiote leapt.

“We’ll find your dad _after_ the show,” Joker said. “I mean come on. It doesn’t get better than this.”

The symbiote wrapped itself around Claire, hot pink wrapping around her body eating away at her muffling out her screams. Amidst the pink, a tendril waved in the air and plunged itself into her neck.

Joker laughed. “Oh, that brings back memories. Remember when we first met Carnage.”

Unfortunately, little old Claire wasn’t compatible with the beast. Blood started pouring out her eyes and mouth as the symbiote ate away at her mouth until she was nothing more than a grey husk.

“TESTING FAILED,” said a robotic voice. “DISPOSING OF SUBJECTS.”

Three mercenaries emerged from the back entrance, holding two Vibranium sound canons. Two of them fired off a low frequency enough to debilitate the Symbiote without harming it, the other one focused on containing it.

After containment, the hollowed-out husk of Claire Sinclair was left. If there had been a brain scan carried out, doctors would find that her brain was nothing more than a shrivelled-out mess of absent neurons.

The mercenaries carried away the symbiote.

“Bring in the next one,” Joker called out.

Two mercenaries left the room as the Joker waited.

There were muffled footsteps. Footsteps Joker recognised as Clive’s. Clive who was supposed to be outside patrolling.

Clive was about to speak but Joker had a gun pointed straight at his revolver.

“Sir,” Clive said, breathless.

“Ah, ah, ah, Clive,” Joker interrupted. “What did I say about your station?”

“To never leave it but…”

“How do we communicate if there’s something urgent?”

“Through the com’s but sir…”

Joker thumbed the barrel. “I set out a simple procedure, Clive. A very simple procedure yet you still choose to ignore it. Somehow your gorilla brain can’t comprehend the words ‘stay outside’. Now tell me why you couldn’t follow such simple procedure otherwise they’re going to have to clean your brains off the floor.”

“Sir, the Batman is here,” Clive said, tears falling down from his eyes, sweat pooling his face. “He’s here with Spider-Man, sir.”

Joker nodded, scratching his chin with his right hand. “That’s very very good news Clive.” The Joker fired the gun as Clive’s brain splattered across the walls.

“Very good news indeed,” Carnage said, glee plastered all over his toothy grin.

…

Outside ACE Chemicals, police lights danced in a flash of red and blue, reflecting off the puddles caused by heavy rain. About 3 dozen police cars were in front of the ACE Chemicals gate. By the front door were the corpses of other GCPD cars, billowing smoke up the air. A large wall of about 20 metres separated ACE chemicals from the police officers and stationed atop those wars were soldiers equipped with military grade Vibranium weapons.

Officer Jim Gordon was amongst these officers. GCPD had called a SWAT team but the remains of their truck could be seen floating in the green lake surrounding ACE.

“Any word on team 2,” Jim Gordon said into his microphone.

“Team 2 is dead,” said a familiar deep voice.

“Jesus,” Gordon said. “You scared me.”

Batman could see from the rings around Gordon’s eyes that the Commissioner had not been getting any sleep. His face was sunken and his hair looked greyer than usual. He looked down and noticed that the Batman’s left leg looked different, like a new piece of armour.

“I heard about…”

“Don’t,” Gordon said firmly. “Not now. What happened to Team 2?”

“Scans from the Batwing show that they infiltrated the back entrance successfully,” Batman said. “Unfortunately, the Joker’s goons got to him first. They’re trained mercenaries first. Team 2 didn’t stand a chance.”

“Jesus,” Gordon said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Robin will clear the mercenaries around the secret lab entrance,” Batman said. “But he won’t be able to do it alone.”

“Well as you can see, we have our hands tied,” Gordon said. “The wall’s being guarded by assholes with Vibranium weapons. None of us can break through otherwise we’ll turn into mincemeat. If someone does get through, they’ll be picked off by the Vulture.” Gordon turned to Batman. “Unless you’re volunteering.”

“Don’t worry,” Batman said. “I have a friend.”

Gordon noticed a flash of red streaking past the cars.

…

“Yo, dude,” said mercenary one. “There’s something coming right at us.”

“You said that ten times already,” said dude. “Get off the pot and focus.”

“No, dude,” Mercenary one said. “It’s climbing up the walls like a… like a…”

“This is why you don’t put a pothead on…” Dude was interrupted by a flash of red kicking him in the face.

“No, dude,” Mercenary one said. “He was climbing up the wall like one of those insects. Not those easy to kill ones, you know? Like a cockroach or a…. or a cricket, you know? It’s those really creepy ones that walk around in corners and shit. Like a… like a... They make those little sticky things that catch insects. I think a caterpillar. No, not a caterpillar. A maggot. No nah.”

“A spider?” offered a voice mercenary one hadn’t heard before.

“A spider?” Mercenary one looked off into the distance blankly and as realisation dawned on him, he grinned. “Yes, that’s exactly it. Thanks bro.”

Mercenary One turned to see Spider-Man, wearing a new suit. It was a darker red than usual with black webs running through it. On his torso there was a giant black… insect. God dammit Mercenary One forgot its name. Behind him were the unconscious bodies of the other mercenaries, their Vibranium weapons either webbed up or scattered all over the place.

“Holy shit, Spider-Man,” Mercenary One said. “It’s you. I’m supposed to kill…”

Spider-Man punched him in the face before he could complete his sentence.

…

ACE Chemicals was a warzone. GCPD Officers were firing at trained mercenaries, debris and cinder rained in from the air under the destructive force of the Vibranium weapons. GCPD officers were moving from cover to cover as the world around them exploded into nothingness.

Meanwhile, Batman, Gordon and a dozen other GCPD officers were fighting through the debris making their way to the underground lab where the Joker was holed up.

“It’s a warzone out here,” Gordon shouted to no one in particular as a GCPD officer was knocked back by the destructive force of a Vibranium weapon. Loud sounds could be felt shaking the ground beneath them like earthquake tremors. They could hear the sound of explosions in the distance as clouds of smoke floated in the air.

“We’re getting close to the underground lab’s location,” Batman said. “Robin is close by.”

They turned a corner past as a police car exploded behind them and gunfire ringed in the air. The entrance to the underground lab was surrounded by a dozen of unconscious bodies. Robin was standing in front of it, arms crossed and looking at a non-existent watch on his arm.

“What happened to being quiet?” Robin asked.

“Change of plans,” Batman said. “What’s happening inside?”

“I’m assuming the entrance is heavily guarded,” Robin said. “Even more so than the outside. Took me a while to deal with the guards out front even when it was quite.”

“Did you manage to get the door open,” Batman asked.

“Took me a while but,” Robin took out a Batarang and pressed a button to electrically charge it. He walked over to the motor. “Just give the motor a little kick and…”

He jammed the Batarang inside. The door rumbled open, scraping against the floor. Gordon and the rest of the GCPD had their guns pointed at the door, their bodies tense.

“Hiya Bats,” Joker said, standing on the other side of the gate alone wearing only a trench coat and a hat. “How’s the…”

The GCPD officers fired immediately but not before a red blob fully enveloped Joker, turning him into a giant red monster.

 **“LEG,”** Carnage said grinning,

…

Spider-Man hopped around the battlefield, saving GCPD officers and dealing with the Joker’s mercenaries. He saved a GCPD officer about to get caught up in a Vibranium weapon’s blast. After he put him somewhere safe, he swung over to the Mercenary.

“Can’t you see the good man is walking over there?” Spider-Man said, yanking the weapon out of his hands. “Man, you need to get your eyesight checked.”

Spider-Man noticed a GCPD officer trying to get his friend out of the rubble, two mercenaries were walking around to flank them, their weapons glowing.

Spider-Man knocked him across the face and swung towards the GCPD officers. He kicked the mercenary on the officer’s right in the face, his weapon firing a blast in the air.

As for the second he flicked his left wrist and…

_… fired it against a block of concrete. The web was shaped like a bullet and it zoomed across the testing room like a rocket. The block exploded outwards. Peter removed his goggles._

_“God damn,” Peter said._

_Dick nodded. “Yep.”_

_“You telling me Barbara came up with this?” Peter asked._

_“Yep,” Dick said. “She noticed the density and overall strength of the formula and decided to make some adjustments.”_

_Peter went over the paper, checking out the formula. “Huh never thought about it like this. If I change around the values of this, I can come up with a potentially non-lethal version. Just need to negate the force with a sticky film that increases the friction and…”_

_“Yeah, you do that,” Dick said. “While you’re nerding out about the formula, Bruce and I came up with some adjustments for your web shooters.”_

_“What kind of adjustments?” Peter said, the statement catching his attention._

_Dick smirked. He put a web shooter on his wrist. “Check it out.” Dick pressed the button on the web-shooter, a simple white web flew out. “Now this fires normal webs, right? Your typical Spider-Man fair but if I flick my wrist.” Dick flicked his wrist and fired again. This time it shot out a spider-tracer instead. “It changes the ammo type.”_

_“Interesting,” Peter said. “A motion sensor?”_

_“Yep,” Dick said. “Just flick your wrist and boom, your ammo changes.”_

_Peter started to smile. Dick grinned back at him._

_“You’re seeing the possibilities too, right?” Dick asked._

_Peter nodded, staring at the concrete slab. “You bet I am.”_

Spider-Man fired the web and the thug got knocked back with the force of a shotgun without the lethality of one, he flew back sticking to a nearby wall. The weapon was seconds away from firing as it spun in the air. After it fired, the web shooter returned to its default setting. Peter just had to flick his wrist again and boom. Peter fired another impact web and launched the weapon in the air, causing it fire at nothing except maybe a few birds.

“You carry around all these big weapons,” Spider-Man said. “You guys compensating for something?”

Spider-Man ran over to the cops, lifting up the rubble. The other cop, a woman, dragged her friend out and made him lean on her shoulder.

“Get out of here,” Spider-Man said. “Go. Call the army or something, just make sure you and your friend are safe.”

“What about you, Spider-Man?” asked the cop.

“I’ll be fine,” Spider-Man said as half a dozen mercenaries came in, weapons glowing and ready to blow. “Okay maybe not fine but I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me and get out of here.”

Just then, half a dozen mercenaries came rushing in firing their Vibranium weapons in the air. The one in the middle was heavily armoured, wearing black armour over his body. Peter knew a normal punch nor a full strength one wouldn’t work. He needed to think on his feet.

“Five guys?” Spider-Man said. One of them fired the gun, Spider-Man leapt in the air avoiding the ray. “Don’t you think that’s a little much for little old me?”

Spider-Man tried getting in close to the armoured guys but his friends wouldn’t stop firing at him.

“Can you ease up a little please?” Spider-Man said. “You’re kinda loud. Noise pollution is a huge problem you know?”

The men fired again, one of the rays missing him by just an inch.

Spider-Man sighed. “Don’t blame me if you get deaf.”

He webbed away from them, looking around for a place where he had an advantage until he found a warehouse. He crashed into the warehouse and flicked his wrist

“ _Two types,” Dick said. “It can carry two types of additional ammo. We could upgrade it to make it 3 but we’re running on a tight schedule here.”_

_“You were telling me about those sensors,” Peter said. “Those ones in the gel?”_

_“Oh yeah, the Wayne Tech micro sensor,” Dick said. “The explosive gel spray has micro sensors in them that sense when there’s a person nearby like this.”_

_Dick sprayed explosive gel on the side of a wall. “Walk in front of it,” Dick said._

_“You sure?”_

_“I’m not going to blow it up in your face.”_

_“I don’t believe that,” Peter said._

_Dick smirked. “Yeah, you better not.”_

_Peter walked in front of it. As soon as he did, he heard something beeping._

_Dick showed a screen on the back of the explosive gel gun. The screen was flashing on and off._

_“When a person’s in close proximity to the gel the sensor goes off,” Dick said. “Since it’s wired to the explosive gel, the gun on the screen immediately starts flashing.”_

_“Is there a way to make the explosive gel immediately off?” Peter asked. “As soon as the sensor senses a person.”_

_“Sure thing, let the explosive gel go off immediately without any regard for human life.”_

“ _That’s not what I meant.”_

_“Yeah, I know.”_

_Peter’s spider senses started buzzing. Peter backflipped away from the wall as it exploded into rubble._

_Dick groaned. “God dammit.”_

_“Asshole.”_

_Dick grinned. “Yeah, there is a way.”_

_“Can I hook it up to a light sensor?”_

_Dick nodded. “It’s Wayne Tech. It can do anything. Why’re you asking these questions? Is it because of those web mines you’re building?”_

_Peter nodded and then grinned. “Yeah, I just had an idea.”_

The warehouse around them exploded into a mess of splinters. “Jesus Christ you should be glad you work ACE. I don’t think you’d be able to pay for that,” Spider-Man said. He was hiding behind a stack of crates. The mercenaries might as well have walked into a spider’s web. Damn, Peter made himself laugh sometimes.

Two mercs walked in from the front and were immediately enveloped in a web cocoon. 4 left. Two came in from the flank but were snapped back into a tower of crates. They were only two more left. The armoured one and the not armoured one. Spider-Man took a crate from one of the stacks and placed a web mine on it. He threw it up in the air. The men fired their weapons reducing the crate to splinters but the mine got one of the men and he was wrapped up in a cocoon.

“Only one more to go,” Spider-Man muttered to himself. Spider-Man leapt over the crates. The man in the armour tried slamming against him with the Vibranium weapon but Spider-Man ducked.

“Your friends are in a really sticky situation, don’t you think?” Spider-Man said. The mercenary swung his weapon again, Spider-Man ducked and punched him across the torso knocking him only a few feet.

“Man, that’s one steady ass armour,” Spider-Man said. “Did your mum make it for you?”

“My mum’s dead asshole,” the mercenary said firing a Vibranium weapon. Spider-Man dodged it.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Spider-Man said. “Did she die of shame after seeing your face?”

The man growled and fired his weapon.

“Look, there’s clearly a lot of anger,” Spider-Man said. He attached a web mine to one of the crates. “How about we talk about it? It’s not good to keep things inside. My therapist says sometimes it’s great to show some vulnerability. To show some cracks in our armour.”

“Can you shut up?” the man roared, firing another weapon.

“Oh, you’re going to be mad when you hear this,” Spider-Man said, attaching two webs on a pillar on his right and left. “But that’s not what your mum said all those nights ago.”

The man roared and fired. Spider-Man leapt up as the ray reduced stacks of crates to splinters. Using the two webs attached to the pillars he propelled himself forward like a slingshot. He kicked the man across the chest knocking him forward and did a backflip.

“Oh my god, son is that you?” Spider-Man said. “Seeing you up close you look so familiar. Granted you’re not as handsome but we can’t all inherit the good genes.”

The mercenary took a while to regain his bearings. When he did, he growled and charged up with his weapon.

“You’re dead Spider-Man,” the mercenary roared. “Dead, you hear me!”

“You would kill your own father?” Spider-Man said, letting out a mock gasp. “What type of Shakespearean tragedy is this?”

Spider-Man put his hands behind his back and attached a web to the crate his web mine was on.

“Though you’ll find I’m not that easy to kill.”

Spider-Man launched the crate as the mercenary fired. He leapt out of the way as the web mine was set off and the man was wrapped in a cocoon that attached itself to a crate that shattered under the armoured man’s weight. He fell down to the ground unconscious.

“And I didn’t get to use the ace up my sleeve,” Spider-Man muttered. “Bummer.”

He was about to jump back into the battlefield. Look for Dick and Bruce and help them out. Hopefully find Adrian amidst this mess and stop him from doing whatever it was he wanted to do.

But then he heard the sound of a motor humming in the air. His Spider-Sense buzzed as a streak of silver flashed by in front of him. He looked down and saw a metal dagger stuck in the ground. The Vulture’s feathers. Peter felt his stomach churn as he turned around to see the Vulture, a clean blue flame being spewed out of a motor attached to a pair of glistening silver wings. The Vulture was wearing a bright green suit with black armour attached to the chest and torso area. He also wore his signature pilot mask. He removed the mask revealing the face of Adrian Toomes.

“Peter,” Adrian said, he looked like a disappointed father when he stared down at Peter. “You didn’t listen.”

“I’m not going to let you kill someone else, Adrian,” Peter said, taking out his mask. “I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s too late for me, Peter.”

Peter clenched his fist. “God dammit no. It’s not too late. It’s never too late. We can fix you, Adrian. You can get help. You can get rehabilitated. It’s never too late.”

“It is,” Adrian said, his face sombre, almost reflective. “It is for me.”

There was a pause. Peter wanted to say something, anything to save his friend but then Adrian spoke up.

“Peter, you have to understand,” Adrian said. “Everything I did, I did for my family.”

“Were those police officers you killed for your family, huh?” Peter asked. “And what about those ACE Chemical trucks you blew up? Was that for your family? Would Valeria and Chery want this?”

“Don’t you dare say their names,” Adrian growled. “Or I will kill you, you little bastard.”

Peter was taken aback. He could barely mask the sadness in his face. “Was I not family huh? Was I not family to you?”

“No,” Adrian said, lying to both himself and Peter. “No, you never were.”

Peter looked away, feeling his heart break. The memories he shared with Adrian, the things they worked together on, the jokes they shared all melting away being replaced with the pain those words Adrian brought upon him. The love he felt for his friend being replaced with a determination to put down this criminal so he wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Peter put on his mask.

“Well,” Spider-Man said. “I guess this is it, huh?”

…

“So many delicious meals in front of me,” Carnage hissed. “I wonder who…”

Carnage didn’t get any time to finish his sentence as gunfire rained down upon him. He tried to retaliate by forming his hand into a scythe but before he could a shrill sound started tearing into him like a tuning fork in his brain.

Carnage clutched his head in pain. His body twisting and contorting as a shrill sound emitted from the two Batarangs surrounding him. The Joker emerged from the twisted dance of Carnage’s body. Batman and Robin took the opportunity to move in for an attack. Batman threw Batarangs that stuck against the Joker’s arm. Joker let out a yelp of pain as Robin leapt in the air, dropkicking him in the face.

“Can’t a guy get a moment to breathe?” Joker said, wiping his bleeding nose. His left hand, limp and bleeding.

“Officers get him,” Gordon commanded. Two officers immediately started jogging.

“Wait!” Batman shouted but before they had the opportunity to listen the blood in Joker’s left hand twisted and formed into a scythe that sliced through the Officer’s head, turning their bodies into geysers of blood that caked the Joker’s face.

“This is why you should always watch your head, boys,” Joker said, a twisted grin on his face. The blood of the officers rained down upon Joker as the officers started firing. However, their bullets were soon absorbed by Carnage who just grinned. Carnage leaped but Batman went over to meet him, sliding underneath him and spraying explosive gel hoping it hit. Before Carnage could slice at the officers firing at him, Batman detonated the explosive gel and Carnage’s chest was left wide open. Robin sprinted towards Joker, punching open the vulnerable area. As Carnage tried to cover it up, Robin sprayed explosive gel on his face. He did a backflip and detonated the gel leaving his face wide open. Batman used this opportunity to throw two sonic Batarangs that caused the rest of Carnage’s body to twist and contort. Carnage lashed out at the Batarang but before he could reform Batman used the Batclaw to pulled Joker out of the bloody twister. Unfortunately, it followed him like a magnet and before Batman could react, Carnage sliced him across the chest.

Batman stepped back, blood running dripping onto his hands from the three claw marks that sliced across the Bat’s body.

“You’ve become more relentless,” Carnage said, grinning. “You’ll find I am like that too.”

Robin threw two Sonic Batarangs but Carnage whipped them out of the air with a single swipe. He extended his arm into a scythe and sliced at only the air as Robin leapt in the air. Carnage lunged but Robin grabbed his shoulders and backflipped over him.

The police continuously fired at him, providing an annoying background chorus. Carnage tried slicing at them but they avoided it quickly, taking a step back, firing and reloading. Carnage heard a hissing noise behind him and saw Robin spraying gel onto his right knuckle. Carnage swiped at him but Robin dodged with ease. Avoiding each and every one of Carnage’s desperate attempts to attack him with the ease of a professional acrobat. Carnage turned his hand into a palm and tried stabbing Robin but he ducked, sliding on his knees until he was close to his chest. Robin punched against his chest and detonated.

Joker was launched across, his body zooming past the GCPD officers. He landed in front of Commissioner Gordon. The Joker grinned as he saw who was standing over him. Before the Commissioner could react, a spear made of blood lashed out at him.

…

Spider-Man leapt away from the volley of feathers Vulture launched at him. Vulture, using that moment as a distraction dived directly at him, Spider-Man knowing what to expect next leaped over him.

The feathers attached themselves to Vulture as blue energy surged across his Vibranium wings, ready for another launch. But before Vulture could launch them, he zoomed back thanks to the web mine Spider-Man attached to his wings. Spider-Man swung towards him knowing it wouldn’t hold him for long. What he didn’t expect was to tackled across the sky.

There was a tangle of limbs. “You still have annoying tricks up your sleeve, don’t you, Peter?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Spider-Man said. He launched an impact web that separated both Spider-Man and Vulture from each other., propelling Vulture forward and leaving Spider-Man free falling. He didn’t have time to decide what to do next as a volley of feathers circled up in the air headed towards him.

“Shit,” Spider-Man mumbled. He pressed both his wrists against each other and shot out a stream of webs that formed out into the shape of a net. A few of the feathers flew past his web shield but most of them were saved by his net. Spider-Man satisfied stopped the stream and attached two webs to two warehouses that were close by. His foot scraped against the gravel as he felt his webs struggling underneath the tension of his weight. His spider sense buzzed and he saw the Vulture inches away from him. Spider-Man used the tension to leap over him. Turning in mid-air like a ballerina, Spider-Man pressed a button on his web-shooters. A blue light coursed through them and an…

_“Electric charge,” Peter said. “I found out that the webs can conduct electricity. I just need something that can charge them as soon as I fire.”_

_“The electric gun,” Dick said._

_“What?”_

_“Bruce has a gun that fires balls of electricity,” Dick said. “It can temporarily knock down guns, overcharge generators. Sometimes it can get you out if you’re in a pinch. Thing is it doesn’t fire pure electricity, even though it looks like it does. It supercharges the ammo in it which is some type of electric conductor. There’s a special type of battery Bruce uses. I can hook you up with one of those.”_

_“Thanks, Dick.”_

_“No problem,” Dick said. “I’ll go look for it right now.”_

_“You know,” Peter said. Dick stopped. Peter chuckled. “I wouldn’t have found out about half of these if it wasn’t for Barbara. She was smart enough to write down the formula and make adjustments to them. She said she wants to do something in computer science but she’d make one hell of a scientist.”_

_Peter sighed. “It’s all my fault, Dick. I should have been there for her. If I was, I could have protected her from the Joker. I… I could have done_ something _god dammit.”_

_Dick, without a word took a seat next to him. “Barbara joined us two years ago.”_

_“Us?”_

_“Bruce and I,” Dick said. “She was just fourteen when she joined us. She dressed up as Batgirl for the first time in some party, party got out of hand and she stopped her dad from being shot. Before then, she’d always wanted to be a cop. Her dad wouldn’t let her, even physically stopped her but I always saw Barbara reading forensics books.” Dick chuckled. “Hell, even the Penal Code. She practically has that thing memorised better than most lawyers.”_

_Dick cleared his throat. “When she became Batgirl, I obviously wanted to stop her. Being Robin for 3 years and almost getting killed by Two-Face showed me how dangerous this can be and every time something happened to her, I blamed Bruce. Every time she got hurt, I blamed Bruce. If it wasn’t for Bruce training her and making her think…” Dick paused, looking ashamed about what he was about to say next. “Making her think she could be Batgirl she wouldn’t be getting hurt this way. She wouldn’t have to risk her life every night against the worst this city had to offer. I blamed Bruce but, in all honesty, I was just throwing all the blame I threw onto myself onto him. I… blamed myself for not being able to protect her.” Dick sighed, looking like he was on the verge of tears. He whispered ‘oh god’ underneath his breath. “It was only now I realised that no matter what I did, no matter what Bruce did she would have still risked her life each night. You know why? Cause she’s stubborn as all hell. I mean.” Dick chuckled. “I’m pretty sure her memorising the entire Penal Code gave it away.”_

_Dick got up. He turned around and looked Peter in the eye. “It’s not your fault that this happened to her, Pete. It’s not anybody’s. It was just shitty luck that this happened to her, that this happened to all of us.”_

_“But…”_

_“No buts,” Dick said. “If Barbara was here right now, she’d be laughing at you. Mark my words, Pete. After she’s done recovering, she’ll be back kicking ass. Probably on a wheel chair but she’ll be kicking ass nonetheless so stop worrying about her, okay. She’d hate that.”_

_Peter smiled. It was a weak smile but a smile nonetheless. “You’re right.”_

_“I always am,” Dick said. “Now you need a battery, right? Let’s go look for one.”_

_Peter got up, following Dick._

_“If there’s anybody you should blame, it’s that clown,” Dick said. “But that’s what we’re here for, right? To kick that clown’s ass.”_

_Dick turned to Peter. “So, stop moping around, we’ve got a clown to beat.”_

His web shooters glowed a bright blue as Spider-Man fired an electric web directly at the motor. The Vulture growled in pain as an electric current roared through the motor, blowing out circuits and snapping out wires.

The electric current stopped and the Vulture fell on the floor, on his knees.

“It’s over, Adrian,” Spider-Man said. “So, can we please, please stop fighting?” Spider-Man pleaded. “I hate every second of this, please.”

“It’s not over yet,” Vulture said through heavy breaths. “Not until I have Drexar’s head on a plate.”

“I don’t want to see you like this, Adrian,” Spider-Man said. “ _They_ wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

“Shut up!” Adrian growled. “Shut the hell up.”

“Your wings are broken,” Spider-Man said. “You can’t fight me. My webs too care of them.”

Adrian chuckled. “Oh, Peter. That’s where you’re wrong.”

“What?”

Adrian got up, his wings glowing a bright blue. A very, very bright blue. Spider-Man’s spider sense started buzzing like a wildfire. “My wings aren’t broken.” Adrian let out a fit of laughter. “They’re overcharged.”

Spider-Man saw Adrian’s feathers swirling around him like a tornado. Before Spider-Man even had a chance to react a feather caught him right in the gut. The world around him swirled as blood dripped down from his gut.

“Goodbye, Peter,” Adrian said as Spider-Man fell on the ground, clutching a silver feather stained crimson.

…

Gordon dodged just as the tendril slashed through his right sleeve causing a cut. Gunfire echoed in the air as two sonic boomerangs sang a shrill song.

Gordon and the rest of the officers got out of the way as they were aware of the thrashing that would follow after. What they didn’t expect was the Batclaw to attach itself to Carnage.

Joker was pulled out of his cocoon of blood and before he could react, Batman slammed him in the ground in mid-air. The Joker grinned before Batman could land a punch and Carnage wrapped itself around Joker. Carnage pushed Batman aside and swung away from Batman and the cops.

“Come and get me, Batman,” Carnage taunted, leaping his way across the warehouses and into the ACE Chemical warehouses.

“Gordon, Robin,” Batman said. “Tend to the wounded. I’ll go deal with the Joker.”

“You’re wounded,” Gordon said, rushing over to Batman and grabbing his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Robin said. “And there’s no way I’m letting you play this lone wolf act again.”

“The Joker is too dangerous,” Batman said. “I’m the only one who can handle him.”

“’I’m the only one who can handle him’,” Robin said in a mocking voice. “He says, bleeding out of his chest.”

“Besides, I have to get that bastard for what he did to my daughter,” Gordon said.

Batman was silent. He closed his eyes as if pondering and nodded to himself. “Very well. But stay close.”

Dick and Gordon nodded. Batman and Robin started moving towards the main factory but Gordon was pulled aside by a female officer.

“Commissioner what are your orders?” a female officer said.

“Find the wounded, the dead, find anyone and get the hell out of here.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be with those two,” Gordon said, turning his head in Batman and Robin’s general direction.

“You sure you don’t need backup.”

Gordon shook his head. “No, too much of a hassle. Besides.” Gordon paused. “Those two are the only backup I’ll need.”

…

_Don’t let this city consume you. Remember when you said that to me? I was having a hard time back then, everything seemed impossible, everything hurt like hell. I felt alone, like I didn’t have anyone and you were there for me. You were the one who said this to me, who listened to all of the pain I felt. You made me feel like I wasn’t alone and god knows how thankful I was for that. You’re also the same person who threw a knife in my stomach but, hey, relationships are complicated._

Spider-Man got up. Trying to ignore the pain in his stomach. Trying to ignore the pain in his heart.

 _Those times in the junkyard; when we were working on that battery that would destroy the Vulture, I mean_ your _wings. Those times we worked in the junkyard I was reminded of those times my uncle and I would build stuff in our old garage._

Spider-Man ripped the feather out of his gut letting out a pained cry. He webbed up the wound to staunch the bleeding, the webs already being stained crimson and turned to see the Vulture flying off. Thankfully his flight was slow. So, the electric webs didn’t make him stronger, it just gave him a temporary boost.

_I sound like a depressed ex-girlfriend but I wonder if you really cared. I mean if you cared you wouldn’t have thrown that knife in my gut. If you knew who I was you wouldn’t have decided to even fight me. And that is, if you cared. I wonder if you really meant it if you said we were family._

Spider-Man attached a web to the Vulture’s wings. But this time he wasn’t holding. He pulled at the wings with all his strength. Vulture noticed and was about to fire his feather but Spider-Man pressed the button and electricity coursed through the wings. Vulture fought through the electrical surge and tried slicing at the web but Spider-Man pressed the button again. Each and every one of Adrian’s screams tugging at his heart strings. He could barely watch his friend in pain but he couldn’t afford to look away either.

_I wonder a lot of things really. I wonder if you enjoyed our time together. I wonder if, in our last fight you were as hurt as much as I do. But there’s one thing I wonder more than anything else._

“I hate every single second of this, Adrian,” Peter screamed, trying to fight back the pain in his voice. “You hear me? I HATE THIS!”

Peter started spinning Adrian around like a hammer throw. He spun Adrian around and around, using every last bit of his strength to spin his friend around and then he let go.

Adrian Toomes, aka the Vulture went crashing through warehouses splinters flying in the air and crates crashing underneath his metal wings. He stopped, dead centre in the middle of a flowerbed of splinters. He tried to move but Spider-Man stood on top of him, mask off, pain and anger clearly visible all over his face.

 _I wonder if this city consumed you_.

…

The factory was a maze of catwalks over eerie green chemical vats. The metal groaned underneath their heavy footsteps.

_Alone, that was what I felt holding little Carny to my chest._

Soon it was only the Bat’s footsteps that echoed, alone across the catwalk as he scurried around looking for them.

_I knew this place like the back of my hand owing to the fact that I worked here. Or was it my father who worked here? I don’t know. That’s what keeps it exciting._

He was alone in the dark factory, his only company the sizzling chemicals.

_I was alone. Probably for most of my life. I think everybody feels alone in life at least once or twice in their life. But nobody feels alone, alone. You know what I’m talking about Bats._

His heart was beating like a jackhammer. Sweat dripped down his neck. Where were Dick and Gordon?

_That loneliness you feel when all hope is lost. When you lose everything that meant the world to you. Those days when it feels like the world has stopped but everybody around you does otherwise. I’m talking about that loneliness._

All the catwalks looked the same. All the rooms, the same. Batman felt like Theseus in the labyrinth. He felt like an ant in a maze.

_You’ve felt it before, haven’t you? And it changed you. Changed you enough to wear a bat costume and beat-up people late at night? Beat them up to the brink of death but never kill them. To pretend to be normal. Even though after that loneliness I don’t think you’re quite normal. No, I think you’re just like me._

He finally found them, their bodies dangling over two separate vats of chemicals. The Joker grinning with a revolver pointed straight at his face.

“And I’m going to prove it.”

He thumbed the barrel.

…

_“You’re saying this computer has information on everybody,” Peter asked._

_Robin nodded. “Yup. Every single person. Very creepy, if you ask me.”_

_“I feel like Bruce is just one misstep away from making Gotham the next 1984,” Peter said._

_“I’m going to pretend I know what that means,” Dick said._

_Peter sighed. He stared at the computer, an idea forming in his head. “So, it has information on everybody. Like their residency and stuff. Even people presumed dead.”_

_“Yeah,” Dick said. “Why?”_

_Peter typed out the name Toomes on the search bar. “I need to do something for a friend.”_

Peter carried Adrian on his back, carrying him past the remains of ACE chemicals. Past the wounded mercenaries and stream of police officers carrying their comrades out of the war zone ACE had become.

Spider-Man took him to a rooftop, making him barely visible from the stream of police officers that were leaving but still allowing him to keep a watch in case things did go wrong.

Peter took out his mask and removed Adrian’s as Adrian came too. Regaining his consciousness. Peter took out a tape from his pocket, throwing it over to Adrian. The tape clattered on the floor. Adrian was stirring.

Peter looked at the police officers. He wondered what Bruce and Dick were up to. He wondered if they were safe. After the police officers left, he’d go look for them.

“Where am I?” Adrian mumbled.

“Listen to the tape,” Peter said.

“What the hell did you do?” Adrian said. “What the hell happened to my wings?”

“Listen to the tape.”

“Peter,” Adrian said, getting up, his wings crying out in defeat as he got up. “What… what happened?”

Peter tensed, turning to him. He was ready if a fight broke out.

“I destroyed your wings,” Peter said. “They don’t work anymore. It’s a shame isn’t it? You built them for your daughter, didn’t you?”

“H-How do you know?”

Peter smiled. It was a sad smile. “It’s a shame what they were used for.”

“How the hell do you know about my daughter, Peter?”

Peter could barely meet Adrian’s eyes. “I saw her diary. She wanted to fly, didn’t she?”

Adrian raised his fist and started moving towards Peter in a threatening manner. “You bastard. Who gave you the right to snoop…?”

“Do you really want to do that?” Peter asked. “After the beating I gave you.”

Adrian’s hand dropped to his side. “What do you want?”

“Listen to the tape.”

Adrian complied. He walked over to the tape and pressed the start button. There was the crackling of static and then a voice. A voice Adrian hadn’t heard in what felt like a thousand years.

“Hey Adrian,” Chery Toomes said. “It’s me. Since this went to voice box, I assume you’re working. As usual. I mean what else should I expect?” Chery let out a sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…” Chery paused and then continued. “Valeria missed you. She always asks me where daddy is and I don’t know how to answer her. She always preferred you over me and she… she looks just like you sometimes. She’s smart like you, too. She’s the top of her class. Our baby is doing fine, too. Doctor says it’s going to be a boy. You never were one for surprises so yeah, 6 months and little Frank Toomes is going to be born. I… I’m telling you this because…” Chery sighed again. This time it was a deep sigh. “I miss you too.” Her voice cracked. “I miss you so much and I wish you weren’t so obsessed with that job so we could spend time together again in that… that crappy restaurant you used to like.” Chery sniffled. “I…”

There was the sound of a door opening and a voice of a little girl’s footsteps. “Is that daddy on the phone?” Valeria Toomes said.

Chery sobbed. “Yeah.”

“Are you crying, mummy?” Valeria asked. “Is daddy making you cry?”

“No, no,” Chery said. “Uh, do you have a… a message for daddy.”

“Yes, I do,” Valeria said. Adrian could hear her jumping up and down like she always did when she was excited. He could hear Valeria climbing up Chery’s lap and could almost imagine them smiling together.

“Daddy’s not on the phone right now,” Chery said. “But he’ll get our message. I’m sure of it.”

“Hey daddy,” Valeria said and Adrian felt his heart tug against his chest. “It’s me. First and foremost, you better not be making mummy cry otherwise I’ll come and beat you up.” Adrian heard Chery let out a soft chuckle behind her. “Second since Mummy says you’re always busy, you better be busy making my wings. I want to fly up and up in the sky like Bloom from Winx Club, okay. If you don’t make those wings, I’ll… I’ll beat you up.”

“Is there anything else you want to say to daddy?” Chery asked. “Before the call cuts off.”

“Yes, I do,” Valeria said. “I miss you so much daddy. I miss having dinner together. I miss the jokes you used to tell us at the dinner table. I miss the chocolate you used to buy me. I miss you so, so much. I love you daddy, please come home.”

“Go on,” Valeria said. “Go play with your toys. Mummy wants to say something to Daddy in private.”

“Okay mummy.’’

Adrian heard her footsteps recede, silently begging her not to go.

‘’You heard that, Adrian,’’ Chery said. ‘’We miss you so much. I know how much you love your work but that doesn’t mean you have to let it consume you. Valeria misses you. I miss you. Please, please come home Adrian. I love you.’’

The tape ended and Adrian was left sitting there on the rooftop. He played back the tape again and again, just to listen to their voices one last time, almost believing that they weren’t dead if only for just a split second.

“W-where did you get this?” Adrian asked.

“Your house,” Peter said. “You told me you forgot how their voices sounded like. I thought hearing them again might… might I don’t know. Save you?”

“Peter,” Adrian said, staring at him. “I don’t know… I don’t know what to say.”

“Just stop this,” Peter said. “Stop this madness. Killing them won’t bring your family back.”

Adrian was silent. There was a silence between them. Peter, exhausted sit on the edge of the building. Adrian decided to sit next to him. He and Peter watched the cops walking alongside the hostages that had survived the Joker’s massacre. Paramedics hauled the wounded mercenaries and police officers. Amidst the crowd, Adrian Toomes saw Otto Drexar who had suspiciously been missing during the Joker’s takeover of ACE.

“Peter,” Adrian said. Peter turned to face him. “Living in this city is a battle. It’s a fight that can only go downhill. Nothing good ever comes out of Gotham, no matter what people like Batman and Bruce Wayne do, Gotham will never change. This city changes people and in this city, you can only find two people. The fighters and the losers.”

Adrian paused, looking at Drexar being interviewed by the GCPD. “People like the criminals, people like the Joker and Two-Face, they’re the losers. The city pushed them too far, the city changed them until they were husks of their former selves. They couldn’t fight the city so they became the worst this city has to offer.”

Otto Drexar walked away from the interviewers and was being checked up by the paramedics. After his check-up he’d be gone for good.

“People like you,” Adrian said. “People like Valeria and Chery, they’re the fighters. They keep going no matter what the city throws at them, they keep moving forward and keep going on. They know they have to keep fighting, they know the city will beat them down but they keep fighting anyway. They know this city will keep throwing the worst shit at them. Things like The Joker but they keep moving forward, never giving up the fight. The city needs people like you. It needs people like you to give it hope so that when things go wrong, the city knows it has people like you to count on.”

A limousine cruised through the gate, ignoring the police officers and paramedics around it. Otto Drexar stood in front of the limousine, ready to leave.

“And me,” Adrian said. He pressed a button. His wings glowed a bright blue. Peter barely had time to react as the wing zoomed through the sky, headed directly for Otto Drexar. “I lost the fight a long time ago.”

The silver feather struck Drexar’s throat. Stained crimson, the Vulture’s feather danced in the sky for the last time.

…

“Here’s your choice, Batman,” Joker said, silver scissors gleaming with glee as it teased the knot, Gordon’s rope was tied to. “Either your one and only friend in the police force or…” Joker turned to Robin. “Your colourful, homoerotic boy partner.”

“Unhand them, now,” Batman said. He took a step forward but red tendrils sprouted from the Joker’s back tickling, slithering across Robin and Gordon’s cheeks.

“Uh, uh, Batman,” Joker said. “If you make one move both of them go bye, bye.”

It was then Spider-Man came crawling behind the Joker. Batman turned, shaking his head. Spider-Man gave him a thumbs up and retreated into the shadows.

A red whip lashed out at the place where Spider-Man was.

“No looking away, Batman,” Joker said. “You pay attention to me.”

In the corner of his eye, Batman saw Robin stirring. Trusting in Robin’s ability to break out of any trap laid out on him, Batman turned to face the Joker.

“You talked about loneliness, right?” Batman asked.

“Yes, but you don’t seem qualified enough to be a psychiatrist,” Joker said. “Both physically and mentally. Now, hurry up, Batman. Clock’s ticking.”

He saw Robin manage to get one arm out and saw Spider-Man in the corner, waiting for any signal to start attacking.

“What makes you think we’re the same.”

Joker laughed. “Pretty obvious. Anyone would have to be insane dressed up like _that_. But enough talk. What’s your choice?”

“There is one difference you seem to ignore,” Batman said. “After that day. That day I lost hope…”

“We’re not here to share sob stories, Batman,” Joker said. “We’re here for moral dilemmas.”

“Time seemed to stop for me,” Batman said. “I lived with the pain everyday and it never seemed to stop. It never stopped. For the both of us, it never stopped.”

Joker sighed. “I’m going to drop them down right now and say that they both died of boredom.”

Robin managed to break free. Spider-Man was getting increasingly impatient.

“But the difference between me and you, Joker is,” Batman said. “I’m not alone.”

“What?”

Before the Joker had any time to react a sonic Batarang rang. The Joker clutched his head in pain. Batman rushed towards him, ready to land a punch but the Joker was quick and cut the rope Gordon was on. There was a flash of red and

…

Spider-Man took Gordon out of the way, swinging across the vats until he found and crashing through an announcement room. Making sure Barbara’s dad was okay (Gotta impress the in-laws) he swung across the room, back to the Joker.

“And I thought I dressed up funny,” Spider-Man said. “Here you are dressed up as the world’s second most common phobia.”

Joker threw the sonic boomerang aside and soon Carnage formed. Robin rolled out of the way as Carnage extended his arms into two scythes and swiped.

Joker’s face opened up for a split second. “You’ll find I’m not alone, either, Batman,” Joker said, laughing as Carnage covered up his face and grinned.

“Hey, Batman,” Spider-Man said. “You think I can sue him for stealing my…”

Carnage turned to Spider-Man and leapt straight at him.

“Costume idea,” Spider-Man said as he rolled out of the way. Carnage and Spider-Man played a game of cat and mouse, jumping between cat-walks and avoiding each other’s attacks while Robin

…

rendezvoused with Batman.

“That was the last of my sonic Batarangs,” Robin said. He took out his explosive gel gun. “And I’m out of juice too.”

“I only have one sonic Batarang and one last explosive gel charge,” Batman said. “We have to make them count.”

“Peter can only keep him distracted for so long,” Robin said. “We have to do something before anything happens to him.”

“You and Peter distract him,” Batman said. “I’ll look for an opening. Once I find one, you use this.”

Batman took out a container the size of a pringle can in his cloak. “It’s something that can keep Carnage contained. Once I detonate the explosive gel charge, Carnage will separate from his host. Once they’re separated you only have on chance to contain him. Otherwise, there’s no chance we’ll make it out of here alive.”

Robin nodded. “This is for Barbara.”

Robin grappled across the catwalks, making his way towards Peter.

Batman sprayed explosive gel on his right knuckle. “For Barbara,” he whispered to himself.

…

“Can you ease up with the sharp objects?” Spider-Man said as Carnage turned his arms into a blade. “I don’t think children should be around them as much as you are.”

“Very well,” Carnage said, turning his arm into a hammer that crushed the catwalk Spider-Man was on. Spider-Man launched another electric impact web that did nothing.

“I don’t think kids should be around hammers either,” Spider-Man said. “Maybe daddy hit you on the head with one, that’s why you’re so stupid.”

“Being around you probably made him lose a few brain cells,” Robin said, kicking him on the face. Carnage swiped against him but Robin did a backflip avoiding the damage. It continued like this, a battle of swipes and dodges until Spider-Man swung overhead. Carnage sliced upwards, leaving an opening.

“Now, Batman,” Robin called.

Batman emerged from the shadows and

…

threw a sonic Batarang. But this time, Carnage was prepared. Carnage sliced it before it could do anything. Batman was inches away from dealing the fatal blow but Carnage leapt away from it. The explosive gel hit nothing but empty air.

“Fool me once, shame on you,” Carnage hissed. “Fool me twice, shame on me.”

Carnage grinned. “Three tasty meals for me to savour. I’m going to enjoy feeding on you, one by one.”

Spider-Man, Batman and Robin stared at Carnage. All hope lost. Carnage stared back with glee all over his face. Carnage leapt but

…

a shrill frequency played from the speakers. Carnage clutched his head in pain as the sound tore through his skull. On the way to the factory, Gordon was told of the symbiotes two weaknesses by Batman and Robin. All he had to do was turn a few knobs and dials and boom, Carnage was done for.

Batman, with the speed of a bullet grabbed Joker before he could reform and regain his bearings and tossed him up in the air.

“He’s all yours,” Batman said as

…

Spider-Man kicked him across the stomach.

“This is for Barbara asshole,” Spider-Man said. The Joker started falling down to the ground, extending his arm out to Carnage but

…

Robin had grappled forward, he let go of the grappling hook and caught Carnage in the glass container before he could reattach to the Joker. He put on the lid before Carnage could escape and took out his Batclaw, attaching himself to the railings of one of the catwalks.

The railing creaked and almost broke underneath his weight but Robin hung on, the symbiote clutched in his arms like a baby. He turned to see a web reaching out for the Joker and

…

grabbing him by the leg. Spider-Man caught him as much as he hated leaving the bastard alive to kill more people. He attached the web to the side of a catwalk leaving the Joker to dangle on the side like a pendulum.

The shrill sound still continued on, hurting Peter’s senses.

“Hey Commissioner can you stop that noise, please,” Spider-Man said. “It’s hurting my head.”

With the Joker dangling on the side of the web it finally occurred to Spider-Man what had just happened.

They won.

…

Joker dangled from the web. He had his arms crossed and a bored expression on his face. Spider-Man had gone to help the police officers and the wounded leave safely and Robin had joined him. Not before telling Batman that the fluid dissolved in an hour.

“C’mon Commissioner,” Joker said. “It’s rude to leave a man hanging.”

“I should leave you here, to rot,” Gordon said. “After what you did to my daughter, I should let you die.”

“Jim…” Batman said but Gordon raised a hand.

“I know better,” Gordon said. “If I let him die, I’ll be no worse than he is.”

“Yes, yes boys, now kiss,” Joker said. “Would you let me out of here?”

“I’ll do the honours,” Gordon said. He hauled the Joker up using the webs as a pulley. Up and up.

“Oh Jimbo, my boy,” Joker said, holding up a rotted yellow flower. “This clown still has a few tricks up his sleeves.”

The Joker squirted the flower acid shot out of it. Gordon managed to avoid the acid holding up his jacket as the acid sizzled through it but by the time he could even react the Joker had cut through the webbing and was falling to towards a bright green vat of chemicals, having the time of his life.

…

_Free falling. Just like the first time he met little Carny. He was falling then, too. Poor Carny must be all alone without him. Must be awfully bored too._

_The Joker knew they wouldn’t do anything. They’d just let him die. People loved to act all self-righteous with their codes and their rules but once the chips are down, when push comes to shove, they’ll throw it all aside to preserve themselves._

_At least he’d get to die laughing._

_Or so he thought._

_A black cape spread, and like an angel he descended. Coming after him with reckless abandon. Saving his life._ His _life even after everything he had done._

_He held him in his arms, the Batman and the Joker noticed things he never did before. Just how strong his arms were, just how tight his muscles were. Were his eyes always that blue?_

_As they landed on the catwalk safely and Batman punched him across the face, the Joker found something he never thought he would._

_The Joker found love._


	21. EPILOGUE

“Now listen here, Peter,” the doctor said. “Your aunt, she’ll be fine.”

“That’s good to hear doc, I’ll…”

The doctor put up his hand to stop Peter. “Wait. She’ll be fine, yes. But her heart is still weak. She should be fine as long as she doesn’t stress herself out and isn’t put through any sudden shock.”

Peter nodded. “I understand.”

“Good,” the doctor said. “You can go see your aunt.”

Peter made his way to her room. He opened the door only to see Aunt May doing some stretches in a nightrobe.

“Oh hey, Peter,” Aunt May said. “The doctor’s said that I’ll need to do some exercise after I’m done recovering but seeing that I feel great, I decided to start exercising now.”

Peter smiled. “Good on you, Aunt May.”

“What’s in that bag you’re carrying?” Aunt May asked, point at the big duffle bag Peter had in his right hand.

“Oh, it’s just something,” Peter said. Inside that bag was his costume. After their talk, Peter would finally tell her what he’d been keeping from her this whole time. “I… I’ll tell you about it later. I just wanted to talk.”

“About?”

“Remember that talk we were supposed to have before…”

“Oh,” Aunt May said in realisation. She noticed the serious look on Peter’s face and let out a quieter oh. She smiled at Peter. She walked towards the bed and took a seat, beckoning him to sit next to her.

Peter carried his duffle bag behind him. It suddenly felt heavy despite all his Spider strength. He took a seat next to Aunt May.

“May I…” Peter could barely meet her eyes. Could barely meet her smiling face. “I want to talk about Ben.”

May put a hand over his. It felt so warm. Peter desperately wanted to pull back his hand because he felt he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve this warmth.

“I… I don’t know where to start,” Peter said, letting out a sigh. “Remember those nights when we first moved here? I’d say I was going out to the nearest library to study or read some science book I saw. Well, I… I was lying.” Peter could barely meet her eyes but he steeled himself to do so anyway. “I was actually going out to look for a job. A good job so I could earn some quick cash you know? I didn’t want to worry you so I… I lied.”

“Oh, Peter it’s okay.” Aunt May was about to embrace Peter but he held out a hand to stop her.

“I…” Peter stammered. “I’m not done. There was this one job. My employer wasn’t the greatest guy. He refused to pay me and that put me in a real bad mood. Soon after, the guy he got robbed and I didn’t do anything. I let the guy run away and… and…”

Peter buried his face in his hands. Aunt May put an arm around him but Peter didn’t want that. He didn’t deserve that.

“That guy,” Peter said. “The guy I let get away, he was the guy who killed Ben and I… I...”

Tears started falling down his face. Aunt May removed her hand, good Peter thought. Good, I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve anything from you.

“Whenever I saw you,” Peter said, trying his best to stifle his tears. “I thought about how I let that man get away. How it’s my fault that

Ben died. How it’s my fault that you’re hurting and it was too much for me and I just… I just snapped. I took out my anger on you and I’m sorry May. I’m so sorry. All I’ve ever brought you is pain and that’s all I’m good for.”

There was a pause. He wiped his tears, barely able to bring himself to look May in the eyes. All he could imagine was her angry face or the look of disappointment in her eyes. He deserved that. He deserved all the anger May had, all the disappointment. He deserved all of that and more.

What he didn’t expect was for May to hug him.

“May?” Peter asked, barely able to mouth a word.

“Peter, your uncle would be so proud of you,” Aunt May said. “He’s smiling in his grave.”

“But I… I’m the one who got him killed.”

“Oh, Peter,” Aunt May said, tousling his hair like when he was a kid. “It’s not your fault. You weren’t the one who pulled the trigger, Peter. It was him and him alone.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Aunt May said firmly. “It’s him and him alone. The responsibility isn’t yours.”

Oh, it is, Peter thought. Dammit it is.

Peter was wrapped in the warmth of his Aunt’s arms. Thinking to himself what did he do to deserve this love? What did he do to have someone as great as Aunt May in his life?

They parted. Aunt May wiped some of the tears off Peter’s face.

“Now what else did you have to say to me?” Aunt May asked. “What’s in that big old duffle bag?”

“Well…”

_“She’ll be fine, yes. But her heart is still weak. She should be fine as long as she doesn’t stress herself out and isn’t put through any sudden shock.”_

Oh, god dammit, Peter thought.

“I decided to take up a sport.”

You stupid filthy liar.

“I thought I’d tell you.”

God, Uncle Ben is turning in his grave right now you asshole.

“That in case I come home with some bruises.”

What is wrong with you? Why are you like this?

“It’s cause I’m too busy playing baseball.”

Aunt May smiled. “Oh, I see. It’s good to be healthy.”

Peter let out a weak chuckle. “Yeah.”

The doctors came in.

“Oh, May,” said one of the doctors. “I see you’re up and about already. Let’s get you checked up. You just have to sign some papers here and there and we’ll see about discharging you.”

“Peter, I’m just going to be doing some check-ups,” Aunt May said. “You can run along now.”

Peter nodded, making sure to take his duffle bag alongside him. He left the hospital room with a sick feeling in his stomach, telling himself that this was to protect May.

…

“Rise and shine, Master Bruce,” Alfred said as the sun trickled across his face.

Bruce groaned, turning to the other side. “Do you always have to wake me up this early?”

“The early bat catches the criminal,” Alfred said.

Bruce looked at Alfred. Alfred stared directly back at him.

“Might I advise not sleeping with the prosthetic, sir?” Alfred said. “You might damage it.”

“That’s good advice, Alfred,” Bruce said. “It’s just I’m not that used to…”

“Ah,” Alfred said. “I understand. Breakfast is ready on the dining table as per usual.”

“Thanks Alfred.”

While Bruce ate his breakfast, he noticed the chair next to him was empty. Bruce rang his bell.

“Yes, Master Bruce.”

“Where’s Dick?” Bruce asked. “I don’t see his plate on the table.”

“Ah, yes,” Alfred said. “Master Dick left Gotham earlier this morning. He advised the both of us not to follow him. He left a letter for you to read. I could read it out loud if you want.”

“No,” Bruce said. “No, that’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure, Master Bruce?”

Bruce nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then I shall return to my duties.”

Alfred went back to his kitchen as Bruce ate his breakfast, alone. Noticing, after a long time, just how loud Alfred’s footsteps really were.

…

Before Peter could get home a limousine parked itself right in front of him.

The backdoor of the limousine rolled open and Bruce Wayne, wearing a pair of sunglasses said “Get in.”

Peter shrugged. He figured it couldn’t be that bad. He sent a text to May telling her that he’d be late and got in. It was air conditioned very, very well.

“All present and accounted for, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked in front of the limousine.

“Yes.”

“Very well.”

Alfred started up the limousine and soon they were off.

“So, what’s up?” Peter asked. “What’s this for? Are you going to take me to some secret mind wiping machine so I can forget you’re Batman?”

“Close,” Bruce said. “I’m taking you to Wayne Enterprises.”

In any other circumstance, Peter would have been excited. He was going to Wayne Enterprises, one of the leading technological bastions of the 21st century but after everything Bruce put him through. After the hell he had been through this past year, he couldn’t bring himself to leap out of his seat in excitement.

As they drove through the streets of Gotham, something felt off. He then realised an annoying presence wasn’t sitting in the car with them.

“Where’s Dick?” Peter asked.

“Dick left Gotham,” Bruce said. “He told us not to follow him.”

“Master Richard is on a journey of self-discovery,” Alfred said. “This past year has been a time of reflection for him.”

“I see.” Peter sighed. “Who’s going to annoy me now?”

They drove for a while, finally stopping in front of Wayne Enterprises. Seeing the huge glass windowed building with the big W in the middle, Peter, for a brief moment felt 8 again. Staying up till the late hours of the night reading books on Wayne Enterprises until Uncle Ben told him to go to sleep.

Bruce stood in front of the entrance, beckoning Peter to come follow him. Peter followed.

The inside of Wayne Enterprises was even more jaw dropping. Shining white marble floors glistened as bustling footsteps shuffled across the floor, clattering against the shining marble. Two glass elevators zoomed upwards to what felt like infinity and Peter could see silver terraces equally occupied by men and women all busy at work.

Peter took back what he said about not being excited about being here. It was amazing.

“Follow me,” Bruce said.

“So where are we going?” Peter asked as they walked past the receptionist table, looking around like an excited rabbit. “The science department? R and D? Oh, don’t tell me we’re going to the top floor.”

“We’re going to the basement,” Bruce said, getting into an empty elevator.

“Man, you’re a killjoy.”

…

Making sure the coast was clear, Bruce used a pitch-black card and swiped it over the elevator buttons.

“Bruce Wayne,” droned a robotic voice. “Identity confirmed. Should I destabilize the guest.”

“No,” Bruce said. “He’s with me.”

Wayne Enterprises had many underground floors, due to the nature of and sheer number of employees that worked there, they had to be provided appropriate parking. But the basement was a special place. A place in Wayne Enterprises only accessible by a select few employees. And by a select few, Bruce meant one.

The basement of Wayne Enterprises was separated by one door. The door opened to a large empty grey space the size of a soccer pitch, lined with glass displays showing off various suits, a door in the far-right corner that led to a massive laboratory where all the equipment and weaponry were built. Underneath massive dusty black cloths were lines of earlier Batmobile models.

Examining one of those Batmobiles was a man who looked a lot like Morgan Freeman, taking down notes on a clip board. “Mr. Wayne. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He put up his glasses and turned. “And I see you brought guests.”

“Lucius,” Bruce said, giving him an appreciative nod. “This is Peter Parker.”

“Ah yes, the spectacular Spider-Man as the newspapers are calling you.”

“Peter, this is…”

“Lucius Fox,” Peter said walking towards him, barely able to believe what he was seeing. “Acting CEO of Wayne Enterprises. I read your paper about arc reactor technology being the new future energy source. I really look up to you.”

Fox chuckled, giving Peter a firm handshake. “You should bring guests more often, Mr. Wayne.”

“Flattering Mr. Fox isn’t what I brought you here for, Peter,” Bruce said. “I brought you here to make an offer.”

“A-An offer,” Peter said, unable to take his eyes off of Mr. Fox. “What kind of offer?”

“A simple one,” Bruce said. Mr. Fox took out his phone and pressed a button. The floor underneath them hummed as a glass container slid out of it, inside which was a costume. A costume meant for Peter.

“Damn,” Peter said, walking over to the costume. The costume was a sleek black costume with a black, leathery mask with slick lenses, metal plating around the chest area with a small black spider symbol in the middle. It had a belt with pockets which Peter assumed were designed to fit extra web fluid and spare gadgets. The rest of the suit was made out of a flexible fibre which Peter assumed was designed to account for his quick movement. The suit had gauntlets with spikes much like Bruce’s Batsuit. By the gauntlets Peter saw a pair of clean silver web shooters that probably had the same flick of wrist mechanic the Gotham Spider web shooters had.

“That is one hell of a suit,” Peter said.

“Yes, and you can have that suit,” Lucius Fox said.

“And protection for your Aunt,” Bruce said. “Alongside living in Wayne manor plus a job in Wayne Enterprises alongside scientists the likes of Curt Conners.”

“What’s the catch?”

“You’ll have to work alongside me,” Bruce said. “What’s more you’ll be training under me. You have great control over your powers but your movements lack grace and leave too many openings. A skill combatant without superpowers could even the playing field with just a choice few moves. All of this can be yours. You wouldn’t have to worry about keeping a secret from your Aunt again.”

Peter thought about it. He thought about Aunt May, about how much hell she’s been through. She thought about how one wrong move, how trusting the wrong person led to the Vulture descending down into his home and almost killing the both of them. He thought about the wealth of resources under Bruce Wayne and how well protected she’d be under them.

But then he thought about Dick. About how much he didn’t want to work for Bruce. About how working under him almost changed him for the worst. He thought about how little Bruce trusted people and how that job was probably an opportunity for Bruce to keep an eye on him (But the money though!). How little by little, working under him would make Peter more like Bruce. And Peter didn’t want to end up like Bruce. And the doctor said Aunt May didn’t need stress and shock in her life. How would she react knowing Peter put himself in danger every night? What would she do if Peter got hurt really bad or died?

Peter made up his mind.

“I’m sorry but I refuse,” Peter said. “All of it sounds good but I… I want to do my own thing. I don’t want to be somebody’s sidekick. But I still don’t want anything to happen to my Aunt so if anything happens to me just… take care of my Aunt, okay?”

Bruce nodded. “Very well.”

He removed a card from his pocket. “If you change your mind, call this number.”

“And if you need anything,” Peter said. “Just give me a ring. I’ll be busy doing my own thing but if there’s something that only the both of us can handle, you know who to call.”

Peter was about to leave but then remembered. “Also, I’ll take your offer on training. You’re right I do move around like a wet slug.”

“Okay.”

Peter started walking but then remembered something else again.

“Can I take that suit?” Peter asked.

“No,” Bruce said.

“Dammit,” Peter groaned. Peter left the basement, never feeling as happy as he did now.

…

When Peter left, Bruce turned to Lucius.

“Did you find out about the prosthetic?” Bruce asked.

“Yes,” Lucius said. “Though you might not like what you hear.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bruce said. “If we can get Barbara back in peak condition without her having to go through hell, it’ll be worth it.”

“Very well, Mr. Wayne,” Lucius said. “I conducted some top-secret investigations, going back to the different medical research teams at Wayne Enterprises but I found nothing. I even consulted various departments, specifically Curt Connors’s team who are the main team in charge of people with artificial limbs they said they didn’t know anything about it. I realised I couldn’t find answers there so I did a trace on the materials used and also traced anyone who bought the sensors used in that chip attached to your neck.”

“And what did you find?”

“It was as scientist,” Lucius said. “A young scientist your father fired years ago.”

“Who?”

“Otto Octavius.”

…

**Arkham Asylum Patient Reports**

**Interview Date: 14 th February **

**Transcript dated: 25 February**

**Patient Number: 1940**

**Real Name: Unknown**

**Other names: The Joker**

**Doctor No: 91192**

**Patient: Rather lonely night, isn’t it, Doctor?**

**Doctor: Yes. Many people report feeling lonely on a Valentines Day. Are you lonely?**

**Patient: Yes, quite lonely. You sound different. New doctor.**

**Doctor: Yes. Mr. King committed suicide not long after your last therapy session.**

**Patient: Ah, yes. Poor Charles. Couldn’t take it once I told him his wife had been cheating on him.**

**Doctor: How did you…**

**Patient: Oh well, I like you. Your voice is much more pleasant. Keeps me at ease, Doctor.**

**Doctor: Do you feel unease when you’re here?**

**Patient: Yes. The walls do feel quite claustrophobic. And old looney Mooney’s debates with himself keep me up at night.**

**Doctor: You lodged the same complaint to the other doctors.**

**Patient: Well, it’s not my fault old Spector or is it Grant, can’t quite remember. Anyway, it’s not my fault old Spector can’t keep his mouth shut.**

**Doctor: Should we move you?**

**Patient: No, I quite like his complaining. (pause). Say, I didn’t notice but you’re quite a pretty one, aren’t you? What are you doing in a dump like this on a Valentine’s night?**

**Doctor: I… uh… I…**

**Patient: What’s your name?**

**Doctor: I’m not supposed to disclose that.**

**Patient: (groans) Oh come on. That’s a load of baloney.**

**Doctor: No, it isn’t. Not after what you did to Mr. King. It’s for my own safety.**

**Patient: Hey it wasn’t me that blew his brains out. Though I would’ve loved to.**

**Doctor: See what I mean.**

**Patient: (sighs) Very well. But how am I supposed to open up when I don’t even trust who I’m talking to.**

**(Despite various protests, Doctor returned to the consultation booth in order to discuss future actions to be taken. After lengthy deliberation, counsel thought it safe for Doctor to disclose her name)**

**Doctor: It’s Quinnzell. Harleen Quinzell.**

**Patient: Do you mind if I call you Harley?**

**Doctor: Whatever makes you feel comfortable. So, let’s start from the beginning. Do you feel, lonely, Mr. Joker?**

**Patient: You looked taken aback when I called you pretty. Is that…**

**Doctor: We’re not here to talk about me. We’re here to talk about you.**

**Patient: What brings you here on such a lovely night? Shouldn’t you be out doing whatever young psychiatrists do?**

**Doctor: Like I said…**

**Patient: My mother always used to go out at night. She’d always bring men home and tell me to go to bed. I was a good little boy so I listened but I didn’t understand why she wanted me to go to sleep so early. It was only after I grew up, I understood everything but back then I always wondered why she looked so sad whenever she brought those men over and why she always cried when I called her pretty.**

**Doctor: I’m not used to being called pretty, is all.**

**Patient: Oh, but you are pretty Ms. Quinn. Hell, you’re drop dead gorgeous.**

**Doctor: Thank you, Mr. J but back to you. Back when your mother brought those men over, did you feel lonely?**

**Patient: Yes very. (Pause). You know what I think Harley?**

**Doctor: What?**

**Patient: I think you’re the right doctor for me. You know what else I think, Harley?**

**Doctor: What?**

**Patient: I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together.**

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look out for the Devil of Crime Alley, coming out next month.


End file.
